


Giardino Segreto

by Syntaxeme



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Demon Deals, F/F, Family Issues, Hanahaki Disease, Henroin is a piece of garbage and Angel deserves better, Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Human Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), I dunno if this actually qualifies as slow burn, Jealousy, M/M, Mob Boss Angel Dust, Multi, Mutual Pining, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Poor Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Possibly Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Transphobia, but I CAN say it takes a minute for the romance to really pick up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: Alastor is in love, and it's quite literally killing him. If he can't get the object of his affections—a frustrated young mafia prince named Angel—to love him back, he's doomed to choke on his pent-up feelings. But somehow, when he tries to confess, he ends up in a different sort of relationship than expected: a contract for Angel's soul.Well, six of one, half a dozen of the other, right? He can still make this work if he's careful about it. Surely he can fulfill his promise to turn Angel into New York's most successful mafioso, protect him from his abusive father, keep him out of his manipulative ex's clutches,andwin his love, all at once. That will be the easy part. Keeping his own feelings in check, however, might prove a little more challenging.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Molly (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 292





	1. Out of Options

Another night in New York City, and Alastor sat cross-legged on one of the Dellarosa home’s many balconies, observing, listening. The room he was peering into was on the third floor, one of few still lit so late at night. Inside, two very similar young people—easily recognizable as twins—sat on the edge of a nicely-made bed. Both had bleach-blond hair with dark roots starting to show, both were a little thin in some place, a little curvy in others. The young woman was tending to a cut on her brother’s cheek, dabbing an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against the gash.

“Ow,” he said softly.

“Sorry.” She quickly drew away, biting her lip, visibly agonized over his pain.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it by now.” Alastor could’ve recognized that voice even without seeing its source, that soft tenor currently tinged with bitterness. _Angel._ His heart quickened slightly at the sound. “His fault, not yours.”

“I don’t know why he gets so steamed about it. Even if you two can’t agree—”

“Agree? It’s _my_ fuckin’ life; he shouldn’t get a say!” Angel growled. His sister (Molly, if Alastor recalled correctly) cowered slightly, and he sighed. “Sorry. You know it’s not you I’m pissed at.”

“I know.”

“And Criss ain’t helpin’! He acts like he gives a shit when it’s just us, then when Dad’s around, it’s ‘Antonia’ this and ‘ _sorellina_ ’ that.” The anger in Angel’s voice was drawn down with pain, and he gripped tightly at the covers beneath him. Molly wiped blood away from the cut on his forehead, and he winced slightly. There was nothing she could do for the bruise under his left eye. “Thanks. Sorry I keep buggin’ you with this shit.”

“Don’t be. I’m here any time you need me.” After closing up the first aid kit that sat between them on the bed, she gently combed her brother’s messy bangs away from his eyes. “He’ll come around eventually, Angelino.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on his forehead, then left for her own room.

Angel sat very sit for a few seconds, dark eyes staring at the floor with a kind of helpless fury and sorrow that Alastor couldn’t help but find fascinating. He glanced toward the window, and the demon froze. But of course, Angel couldn’t see him. The boy—a young man, really, somewhere around the age of 25—let out a sigh and turned out the lights, then crawled into bed and buried himself under the covers. It wasn’t until Alastor heard his breathing turn slow and deep that he finally left, strolling away from the house and twirling his staff idly through his fingers.

Was there something a bit voyeuristic, a bit ‘creepy’ about this? Certainly. But could he help himself? Unfortunately not. This wasn’t the first time he’d observed Angel Dellarosa and been utterly captivated by every word from his mouth, every defiant toss of his head. Angel, who had been given a different name at birth but had since chosen a new one for himself. Angel, whose family—excluding his sister—refused to acknowledge who he was and how he felt. Stubborn, passionate, beautiful Angel, who had caught Alastor’s attention on his first night in the Big Apple and held it firmly ever since.

It was odd. He didn’t typically take such a fixed interest in any particular human. Most of them, he would’ve said, were more or less interchangeable. Predictable. Boring. But Angel had surprised him and continued to do so. If only there were something he could do to make the boy’s life easier, he would, without a moment’s hesitation. To see him comfortable, to see him at ease, to see him fulfilled and smiling…

When Alastor’s chest inexplicably tightened, his stride faltered. Further tightness, an itch in his throat, and he coughed. Instead of fading, the sensation of his chest constricting got worse, forcing him to cough harder and cover his mouth by reflex. He was familiar enough with the idea of consumption that he expected to see blood when he pulled his hand back.

The flower petals, however, came as a surprise.

Rose petals, to be specific. Powder pink roses, pink like Angel’s lips when he so rarely smiled, like his fingertips when they ran through his hair. Funny. Knowing himself, Alastor would’ve expected red, but although they were stained with the same blood still marking his lips, there was no denying the petals were soft and pale. Another unexpected turn, and once again, it was Angel’s doing.

The concept wasn’t entirely foreign, though he never would’ve expected it to apply to him of all people. He’d always thought of this as more of a Heavenly affliction. Was it a biblical story? He couldn’t recall.

The tale went that love was a gift, a thing of beauty, and one should never keep such a gift hidden. If kept trapped inside and unshared, the _blossoming_ emotions would fill the space they were given: the space in one’s chest, one’s heart, one’s lungs. The only cure was to confess and to have the feelings reciprocated. Otherwise, the ‘beautiful’ disease that was love would consume the victim from the inside out. Oh, it was all very symbolic. Very artful. Very poetic.

It made Alastor want to vomit. More petals. Ugh. And the implications! Love. _For crying out loud._ He’d never felt any such thing in his life. Never mind that he’d gotten a little sidetracked on his recent visit to New York City and stayed a few days…weeks…all right, months longer than intended without forming a single contract. He had been berating himself for it every day. Yet there he stayed. _Idiot._ And now he was ‘lovesick’ in every possible sense of the word. _Fool!_

There weren’t many he could rightfully call friends, but there were some who tolerated his presence more than others. One such beast was a fellow demon named Husk, one who also spent much of his time lingering on Earth and enjoying the darker sides of human society. Unsure of what to do or how to approach this issue, Alastor sought him out in one of the seedy speakeasies he was known to frequent.

“Bullshit! No way is that the hand you got dealt,” Alastor heard as he entered the darkened, smoke-hazed room and headed for the poker tables, where he knew he was likely to find his ‘friend.’

“You callin’ me a liar?” That was Husker’s voice, easily recognizable by its rough and perpetually-irritated tone. When Alastor reached the tables, he found Husk on his feet, in a shouting match with another patron over their game. He was the sort of demon who adopted an entirely human appearance when mingling with humans so as to not give away his nature, but he was still easy enough to pick out of a crowd. After all, he was the only one who could see Alastor even while his magic was concealing him from mortal eyes.

“Making friends as always, I see,” the Radio Demon remarked mildly, and Husk glanced briefly in his direction without answering.

“You know what? Fuck it. This bet ain’t even worth arguin’ about.” Throwing his cards down on the table, he turned to walk away, giving Alastor a subtle nod that said he should follow. So he did, wandering over to the bar, where Husk ordered a rye whiskey.

“You could have finished your game,” Alastor said, leaning against the bar and scanning the room for anything of interest. Not likely, since he knew what to expect here. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Doesn’t matter. I was cheating anyway,” Husk said flatly. “What’re you doing here? Lookin’ for some poor sap to dupe into a deal?”

“As phonetically pleasing as that is, no. I was hoping to catch you for a chat, actually. I, er, have a problem I’m not quite sure how to solve.”

“What, you’re lookin’ for advice? From me?” After receiving his drink, he gave the bartender a nod and led the way to a table in one quiet corner of the room. “I ain’t promisin’ I’m gonna be helpful, but go ahead and lay it on me.”

Sitting very still and very straight in his chair, hands folded on the table, Alastor explained his situation as dispassionately as possible while Husk sipped his liquor. The more he talked, the more he was forced to realize exactly how complex a position he was in and how few options he had left himself. Predictably, when he got to the part about the rose petals, Husk laughed at him.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You got the fairy tale flower-puke disease?” he choked out, and Alastor remained silent, placid, ignoring his irritation. Yes, yes, it was all very funny until one was forced to deal with it personally. With no choice in the matter and no easy way out, it became significantly less amusing.

“I didn’t ask for it, mind you. None of this has been planned by any means.”

“But you let it happen.” Husk’s tone made it clear how strongly he disapproved, that he saw the predicament as Alastor’s own fault. And Alastor was forced to agree, to a point. “You’ve never even talked to the kid and you got it this bad? I woulda figured that wasn’t possible.”

 _Before him, I would have too._ Of course, he didn’t dare say that out loud for fear of his friend ruthlessly criticizing his—very uncharacteristic—romanticism. “However it happened,” he said instead, “I have no choice but to address it at this point. The question is how to go about doing that.”

“What question? You got two options, right? Either you win him over or you eventually choke to death on your fucking _feelings_. Unless you just wanna give up and die—”

“You know, my friend, you have been every bit as helpful as I expected when I came here,” Alastor said pleasantly. “I truly appreciate your tact and understanding on this sensitive subject.”

Husk rolled his eyes and drained the last of his whiskey. “Look, if you wanted ‘tact and understanding,’ you came to the wrong guy. But I don’t think that is what you wanted. I think you wanted to be told exactly what you hafta do, so you couldn’t keep beatin’ around the bush about it. Am I right?”

 _Unfortunately._ The Radio Demon—funny to think how utterly inapplicable his power and reputation in Hell were to this situation—let out a defeated sigh and turned his eyes down toward the tabletop. Stained. Messy. Not his cup of tea. But his friend was right, and he’d gotten what he had come for: confirmation that there was only one thing he could do now.

He had no idea how to go about wooing anyone; he’d never had any need to in the past. How he might persuade Angel to love him _and_ to admit it…he couldn’t begin to imagine. But at the thought of succeeding, of coming to occupy the most important and valued position in the boy’s life, his chest tightened again with desperate longing, and he quickly covered his mouth, trying to keep his cough as silent and subtle at possible. Since the first time, there had been an almost constant tension vaguely lingering around his respiratory system, but it only became unignorable at moments like this.

“Huh. Y’know, I almost thought you might be bullshittin’ me,” Husk observed with vague interest as petals collected in Alastor’s palm. “Guess it’s for real. Good luck with that.”

Alastor’s fist clenched, delicate petals crushed, blood dripping down his wrist. Luck was the very least he needed.


	2. Certain Lines Are Not to Be Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After yet another fight with his father, Angel goes out on the town with a friend, looking to drown his feelings in drinks and drugs. Alastor follows along, concerned that Angel might run into trouble--and run into trouble, he does. _So much for keeping a low profile._

It took a further few days of hemming and hawing before Alastor finally managed to take action. After all, he had to decide on an approach, how to introduce himself, how honest he should be—there was plenty to consider. Plenty to waste time overanalyzing.

Maybe two weeks after his initial coughing fit, he was hovering around the Dellarosa house again, looking for an opportunity to speak to Angel—but even when he arrived home at around 10 p.m., his father met him at the door and dragged him into his office. Unable to resist observing the interaction, Alastor slipped into the room alongside them.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Angel snapped, trying and failing to wrench his arm from his father’s grip. “Get offa me!”

“Where’ve you been?” The Dellarosa family’s patriarch, Enrico, was a large and physically imposing man, whose voice always seemed to hold a certain quiet anger. Especially when he was addressing Angel. “And what are you wearin’?”

Angel drew into himself slightly, crossing his arms and grasping at his sleeves. His outfit consisted of a dress shirt, slacks, and oxfords, all of which were a bit too big for his slight frame. “Clothes?” he answered defensively. “I borrowed ‘em from Criss.” That would be his older brother, Cristiano, who was next in line for the position of boss.

“Right. You ask him about that first or did you just take ‘em?”

“He _gave_ ‘em to me,” Angel growled, bristling. “They’re just clothes. What d’you care?”

“I care that my daughter is runnin’ around town looking like a damn crossdresser,” Enrico snarled right back, and the boy stiffened at that word. ‘Daughter.’

“Who, Molly?” he asked coolly. “Last I checked, her closet was still full of skirts, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Don’t play stupid—”

“Well, you only have one daughter,” the boy insisted, his voice rising along with his frustration, “so I dunno who else you could be talkin’ about.”

His father took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m losin’ my patience with this whole I’m-a-boy phase.”

“Losing? Like ya ever had any to start with?” Angel’s shoulders were tense, his hands still clenched, his voice coming out through gritted teeth. “And I toldja already, it ain’t a phase. No matter how many times you argue with me, no matter how many dresses ya force me to wear, no matter how many times Ma tries to tell me about my ‘place’ in the business—this is who I am.”

“Please. ‘Who you are’ changes like the fuckin’ weather. This? This is just your latest bid for attention, and you’re hangin’ onto it because it’s workin’.” Enrico’s voice was icy, utterly devoid of compassion. Despite his body’s rigidity, Angel’s hands trembled slightly.

“Molly believes me.”

“Molly goes along with your theatrics because she loves you. I don’t have time for it.”

 _Time for loving your child?_ Granted, Alastor had never been a parent himself and therefore couldn’t know how it felt, but that particular brand of love, he’d heard, was meant to be unconditional. Enrico’s seemed to come with a great many particular if-then addenda.

“Why would I lie about this?” Angel’s shaking was getting worse. “When you make every single part of it so fuckin’ hard—”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Why would I bother fighting with you if this wasn’t real?” the boy demanded, furious and glaring even as his voice broke. After a moment, his father took a step closer and reached up to swipe a tear off Angel’s face with his thumb.

“Boys don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said without a hint of sympathy, his tone dripping disdain. “Now you listen to me and listen good. I don’t wanna hear any more of this. Not one more word. You’re makin’ a fool outta yourself, goin’ out looking like that, and you’re makin’ a fool of me too. The pants, the short hair, you tryin’ to get involved in the business—that shit’s about to end, and if you keep tryin’ to fight me, I’m gonna make sure you regret it. You hear me?” Silence for a moment, and Angel’s eyes stayed trained on the floor. Unsatisfied, his father took a step closer and growled, “I said, do you hear me, Antonia?”

Drawing in a deep breath, the boy straightened his spine and raised his head to answer clearly, “My name is Angel.” Without a second’s hesitation, Enrico pulled a hand back and slapped him across the face, hard enough that the sound voided the room of air and Angel stumbled to the floor.

Beyond Alastor’s control, a high, ear-splitting screech of static pealed through the room, and both mortals cringed. It took every ounce of his willpower not to end Enrico’s life then and there. He knew this wasn’t the first time Angel’s father had raised a hand to him, of course, but he had never been present to witness it in the past. The static quickly faded from the room as he struggled to calm himself, and the two humans stayed still as they tried to determine its source.

 _Not now_ , Alastor told himself. _Patience, just a little longer. I won’t let him be in this position again._

Still distracted, Enrico muttered, “Get the hell upstairs and put on somethin’ that fits you.” Angel forced himself to his feet, and under his father’s withering glare, he left the room. He kept his head high as he walked, but there were visible streaks of tears down his face. Alastor followed quickly up the stairs to his room, trying to remember the introduction he had planned for himself earlier past the blinding fury he felt from seeing Angel be struck. When the boy locked his bedroom door and wandered toward his closet, starting to unbutton his shirt with shaking hands, Alastor realized he was edging dangerously toward Peeping Tom status. After a split-second of panic, he bolted out onto the balcony to try to center his thoughts.

All his careful planning had been thrown off within just the past ten minutes; he’d hoped to catch Angel in a good mood when he returned home and to introduce himself in a lighthearted atmosphere. Judging by the rage and pain now radiating from the boy, that was no longer an option—not for this night, at least. Better to wait for another opportunity, then?

At the sound of the balcony door behind him, he spun on his heel—and found himself face to face with Angel. The Radio Demon sucked in a breath and held it, frozen even though he was well aware no mortal would perceive him, even this close. Angel’s dark eyes gazed right through him and out at the city, his expression patently dissatisfied, his cheekbone already starting to bruise from Enrico’s slap. He ran a hand through his pale bangs, tilting his head back, and Alastor realized he hadn’t actually taken his shirt off; it was just unbuttoned. Further, his modesty wasn’t in question, as he was wearing a tight bandeau underneath to bind his chest. He was, as always, singularly beautiful, and Alastor couldn’t bring himself to look away until Angel finally took a step back himself and retreated inside with a sigh.

The tension slowly melted out of his posture, and he fought back another coughing fit from the excitement of having been so painfully close to the object of his affections. The sooner he explained himself, the sooner Angel knew of him and could possibly return his feelings, the less he would suffer over time. Yet still he hesitated to accept the vulnerability that came with admitting to being in love. Some foolish part of him almost insisted it would be better to die than to suffer that indignity.

While he was standing outside fighting with himself, Angel turned out the lights in his room—but he didn’t go to bed. Instead, he switched on a lamp and seated himself at the vanity against the wall. As Alastor peered inside curiously, Angel was putting on eyeshadow and liner, winking and smiling at himself in the mirror. _Cute._ But why wear makeup to bed? He must have been planning on going out again, which wasn’t entirely out of character.

Alastor got his answer in the form of a huffing, grunting young woman clambering her way over the balcony’s railing to crouch atop it and rake strawberry blond hair out of her eyes. “Hey!” she hissed in a sort of stage whisper, a conspiratorial grin curling her lips. “You ready to go, bitch? We ain’t got all night.”

“Fuck you,” Angel called back with a laugh while Alastor took a step back on the balcony to observe the new arrival. Her hair was messily pulled back into a high ponytail, her pleated skirt shorter than average, her blouse partially unbuttoned on top and bottom. Frankly, she looked like a hellion. Mischievous.

Stranger still: she was a demon. A relatively low-level demon, it seemed, as she didn’t seem to notice Alastor’s presence, but he could still read it on her, as he could any demon in a human guise. Did Angel know about this? Surely not. Yet even if he was unaware of it, it did seem to be a fact that he was friends with a demoness. Another interesting surprise.

When he came out to meet her, he had changed from his brother’s borrowed trousers into a pair of shorts he and Molly had fashioned from a loose skirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the lower part of his shirt unbuttoned and tied at his waist. “Took ya long enough,” his friend teased. When her eyes fell on his marked cheek, she winced slightly but quickly replaced her smile. “We gettin’ outta here or what?”

“God, please,” he groaned. “I am beyond ready.” Seemingly (factually) from nowhere, the girl produced a very simple rope ladder, which she tied to the balcony’s railing and quickly descended. Angel laughed as he followed her, “Where the hell were ya keepin’ _that_?”

“Girl’s gotta have her secrets.”

Alastor peered over the edge of the railing as they crept away from the house, nervous for reasons he didn’t quite understand. Angel was, by all accounts, an adult. Being the child of a mafia boss, surely he’d been taught how to defend himself. Yet something about the idea of him being out who knew where in New York City in the middle of the night made Alastor’s skin crawl. After a moment more of debating with himself, he rushed through the harsh shadows cast by the moon and followed the pair. Even if this wasn’t the time for his confession, he could still be sure that Angel was safe.

As they walked and he listened, he learned the girl’s name was Cherri. “You’re mopier than usual,” she said, nudging Angel’s arm. “Old man caught you comin’ home?”

“Course he did,” he grumbled in response. “And he pulled the whole ‘I’m puttin’ my foot down’ shit again. We’re just gonna keep havin’ that same conversation over and over until he gets it through his thick skull, and I’m so fuckin’ _tired_ of it.”

“Don’t worry about it right now, babe.” The girl threw her arm around his shoulders and nudged her head against his while they continued to walk. Alastor felt an unfamiliar pang at seeing how close they were. “This club where I’m takin’ you is the best place in town to get your mind of all the bullshit at home, trust me.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Angel chuckled. They continued downtown to a somewhat rundown part of the city, passing by what appeared to be an abandoned hotel and traveling down an alley at its side. Already, Alastor was uncomfortable with the setting. If he were the sort of person to say he had a ‘bad feeling’ about a place, he certainly would have at this moment. _All the more reason to continue following._

At the end of the alley, there was a bare metal door in the solid brick wall on their right, and Cherri pounded her fist against it in a particular rhythm. After a moment, the door cracked, then swung open fully to reveal a musclebound, dark-haired man, one who looked perhaps twice the age of Angel or Cherri.

“Been a while, doll,” he said in a voice that betrayed years of tobacco abuse, his eyes roaming licentiously over Cherri’s body. _Unpleasant._ When he turned that same gaze on Angel, Alastor’s body grew tense. _Unacceptable._ “And who are you, sweet thing?”

“His name’s Angel, and he’s with me,” Cherri said, protectively pulling the boy closer to her side and giving the older man a withering glare. “So keep your fuckin’ eyes to yourself, Jazz. You lettin’ us in or not?”

Despite her hostility, he shrugged and took a step back to let them enter without any further protest. Alastor followed along, giving ‘Jazz’ one last reproachful glance before heading downstairs into a basement that had apparently been converted into a bar. The room was lit here and there by lamps on the tables spotting the floor. The place wasn’t terribly full, and no one looked up when the newcomers entered.

“ _Dio santo_ , I’m gonna lose my damn mind if I don’t get a drink,” Angel groaned, “ _now_.”

“All right already, calm down,” Cherri laughed. “Come on, my guy at the bar’ll take care of us.”

Alastor remained for the next few hours, standing by at the table the duo occupied against the wall and listening to them chat. After the past several months, this was a pastime he’d grown used to with Angel, and he was happen to listen—though the conversation this evening wasn’t the most positive sort.

Angel had quite a lot to say about his mistreatment at home, how his father refused to even attempt to use the correct name or pronouns. Enrico had even gone as far as snapping at the others when they addressed Angel correctly. The tone of his voice—particularly as he grew more intoxicated—made his pain clear through his anger, no matter how tightly he tried to cling to the latter.

In addition to several shots and various cocktails, Cherri also obtained a pouch of crystalline white powder and a handful of small, colorful tablets. She popped one into her mouth and offered one to Angel, who accepted it and squinted at it curiously. “Wassat?” he asked, already beyond tipsy and firmly in the realm of drunk. He didn’t wait for an answer before impulsively bringing it up to his mouth to lick it.

“You’ll like it, trust me,” Cherri told him as she was stirring the white powder into their drinks.

Alastor stood by, nervous, starting to fidget a bit as he wondered how all those chemicals would interact. Granted, this subject wasn’t his area of expertise; the drugs he had dabbled in in life had been of a very different sort. But if Angel had never tried this combination before, might he be in danger of having an adverse reaction? He was a bit reckless, Alastor had noticed already, and with his judgment already skewed by alcohol, he was that much more likely to make rash decisions. Briefly, Alastor had the thought to try to stop him, but that wouldn’t be the best first impression. And besides, there were too many people around for him to comfortably come forward.

Once the two had downed their pills and drinks, they seemed to grow much more talkative, more energetic, more cheerful—but it all seemed forced, artificial somehow. And Alastor’s concern continued to mount, particularly when a pair of men, visibly larger and stronger than the two of them, came to join them at their table.

“You girls look like you’re havin’ a good time over here.” One of the intruders was recognizable as the same Jazz who had let them into the establishment. The two made themselves comfortable in the surrounding chairs while Angel and Cherri seemed rather confused by their presence. “Mind if we join you?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Cherri said flatly, sending Angel into a fit of giggles. “If you ain’t here to get us another drink, piss off.”

“Hey, we can do that. Dan.” Jazz nodded to his companion, a tattoo-covered ruffian who left immediately for the bar. As Alastor watched, he ordered a pair of colorful cocktails, then discreetly added…something else to the glasses before bringing them over and setting them in front of Cherri and Angel. Angel was clearly in a more agreeable mood, as he readily reached for the glass in front of him—but his friend caught his hand to stop him.

“Look, Jazz, I dunno what you think you’re playin’ at,” she growled, growing tenser and more hostile with each passing moment, “but it ain’t happenin’.”

“You sure? Your friend seems like she’s havin’ fun,” the tattoo-covered Dan pointed out, nodding at Angel, who was still a bit giggly. He tilted Angel’s head upward, trying to pour the offered drink down his throat—and unfortunately, the boy was too addled to argue, opening his mouth and leaning into the predator’s touch. “Look at you, all eager.”

“Hey, get your fuckin’ hands off him!” Cherri snapped, lunging at Dan, only to be caught by Jazz, who held her back and dragged her into his lap. This was all happening very quickly, the situation escalating in mere moments while Alastor warred with himself. Yes, it would be an issue to blow his cover, but letting Angel come to harm would be far worse.

“What’s the problem, doll?” Jazz snickered, his hands starting to creep under the edge of Cherri’s shirt while she struggled. “Everybody’s feelin’ good right now. Why don’tcha take another drink and enjoy it with us?”

“No! Get off me! Angel!”

Angel, who was in the middle of being fed his drugged drink, apparently heard his name and lifted his head, spilling his drink down the front of his chest and taking in a shocked gasp at the cold liquid against his skin. “Cherri?” he slurred, trying and failing to blink the haze from his eyes. “Babe? What—”

“Don’t worry about her, honey,” Dan said, moving in closer to turn Angel away from his friend. “She’s in good hands. And so are you.”

Alastor had seen quite enough. As hard as he’d tried not to involve himself in Angel’s affairs, as much as he disliked the idea of revealing his nature in such a public setting, he absolutely refused to stand by and see the boy he— _damn it_ —loved be abused like this. With a snap of the demon’s fingers, the shadows in the room (and there were plenty) bent to his power and rushed forward to separate the two predatory mortals from their quarry. Angel and Cherri were replaced back in their seats, while the would-be molesters were shoved some few feet away as Alastor manifested in front of them.

“What the hell?” Dan muttered, reflexively reaching for a pocketknife tucked into his waistband. _Oh, please._ “Where’d you come from?”

“Gentlemen, I’m going to assume you’ve both had quite a lot to drink this evening,” Alastor said, his calm demeanor belied by the steadily-building radio static in the room. The other patrons noticed it as well, and some inched closer to the ruckus. Not ideal, but the most important thing was Angel’s safety. Whatever Alastor had to do in order to defend that, he would. “With that in mind, I’m willing to ignore your deplorable behavior on the condition that it cease immediately and you leave these two”—he nodded toward Angel and Cherri, who were still somewhat in shock—“alone. Please don’t make me tell you again.”

“Fuck you,” Jazz snapped predictably, taking a step forward as if he thought his height and bulk might intimidate Alastor. No such luck. “Look, we were here first, so scram and find your own girl.”

A buzzer sounded from somewhere unseen. “Ooh, I’m sorry, that’s not the answer we were looking for,” Alastor said sympathetically, twirling his staff in one hand before stamping it down against the floor. Every light in the room went out, sending its occupants into a panicked uproar.

Alastor, on the other hand, had no difficulty seeing in the dark. He had his shadows seize the two delinquents and knock their empty skulls together, not sure of how much damage it might do and not particularly caring. In the same instant, he scooped Angel up into his arms and instructed the shadows to bring Cherri along as well. The three swept up the stairs, down the alley, and into the ruined hotel next door. An absent wave of Alastor’s hand lit the dust-covered sconces on the wall, providing just enough light to see by.

Now that they were out of harm’s way, he carefully rested Angel on the threadbare rug to check on him, and his blood ran cold as he realized the boy was still, silent, unresponsive. Not breathing.


	3. Revelations Ain't Just a Book in the Bible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor finally has the opportunity to introduce himself to Angel. If only Cherri weren't there to ruin the moment. Angel is surprisingly receptive to his story, and Alastor finds himself battling a temptation he's never before dealt with. _Courtship is different for everyone, isn't it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to apologize very quickly for the length of this chapter. It just...got away from me somehow. >_>

How strong were those drugs he’d taken? Had Cherri given him too much? Or was it that final laced drink that tipped the balance? Never mind exactly how it had happened; Alastor _refused_ to let this boy die. The very thought made his ‘illness’ flare up again, his chest tight and uncomfortable, but he pushed past it nevertheless. After a moment of frozen panic, he checked Angel’s pulse and was relieved to find it still beating, albeit faintly. If his lungs weren’t functioning, that likely wouldn’t go on for much longer, but it did make the solution simpler.

He knelt at Angel’s side, pinched his nose, and, despite his apprehension, covered the boy’s mouth with his own to breathe into him. Perhaps he hadn’t been formally trained in any sort of first aid or CPR—in fact, it was quite the opposite—but still he persisted, each breath infused with every ounce of demonic magic he had, with a desperate desire to see Angel through this night.

At last, the boy twitched and tensed and coughed, his eyes fluttering open briefly and sending Alastor’s head reeling with relief. Their gazes met for only a moment, then Angel’s eyes fell shut again, but he was breathing as normal, simply unconscious. He would have the opportunity to recover from the disaster this night had become. Alastor very nearly thanked God before realizing that wasn’t quite appropriate.

Just as his body began to relax, the cough he had been suppressing forced its way up again, and he turned away to choke out another pile of blush-colored petals and rust-colored blood. He tried to tell himself that his efforts were all motivated by self-interest; after all, if Angel died, he could never return Alastor’s feelings and would therefore seal his fate as well. But he knew better. He knew that in that moment, all his fear and desperation had been entirely for Angel’s sake. Oh yes, he was in much too deep here—yet the knowledge that Angel would live filled him with such joy and relief that he could hardly complain.

While he was distracted with wiping blood from his chin, the demoness, Cherri, evidently recovered from her shock and pounced on him, sending the two rolling across the ground. Already on edge and bristling even further at being touched, he easily pinned her to the floor and got to his feet again, one gleaming wingtip planted between her shoulder blades to keep her there.

“Get the fuck off me, and stay away from him,” she snarled viciously, likely still in the grips of whatever drugs she had taken earlier. Alastor reminded himself of that and tried not to take her aggression personally.

“That’s a strange way of pronouncing ‘thank you,’” he pointed out, “considering the position I helped you out of minutes ago.”

“Kiss my ass. I never asked for your help.” Her hostility might have been amusing, had he not been so busy figuring out where this left his pursuit of Angel, how he might explain what had just happened. A glance at the boy showed his sleep was undisturbed by their scuffle, so that concern could wait a little longer.

He kept his voice low as he answered, “I know it might be difficult for you right now, but think: if my intentions were malicious, why would I have gone to the trouble of rescuing you?”

“So we’d be in your debt? So we’d trust you? I don’t fuckin’ know, and I don’t care,” she growled, shoving out from under his foot and instead putting herself between him and Angel. That, he didn’t much care for. “Whoever you are, whatever ya want, I’m not lettin’ you hurt him.”

“First, just so you and I are straight: I don’t need you to ‘let’ me do anything, dear. Your trying to stop me would be a mild inconvenience at best.” His pleasant smile remained in place while he stated these facts. “Second, the point is moot, because I don’t have any desire to hurt him. And as long as you don’t insist on testing me, the same can be said for you.”

Her eye—as the other was hidden by her bangs—narrowed, but her posture didn’t relax. “What _do_ you want, then?”

“Didn’t you just say you don’t care?” he chuckled.

“Shut up and answer the question.”

_Are contradictions like this a common side-effect of recreational drugs?_

“I want to speak with Angel. That’s all.”

“Why?” She looked him over as if sizing him up, yet she didn’t back down. _Courage, if a bit ill-advised._

“Now I’m not sure that’s any of your business. For that matter, what do _you_ want with him? I’ll assume you haven’t told him what you are. You brought him to that den of iniquity and put him in danger. Are you trying to make sure he ends up the same as we are when he dies?”

“No!” Cherri barked, her eyes starting to redden and tear up. “Ya think I’d do that to somebody on purpose? Of course not. I’m his friend. One of the only real friends he has. I look out for him and I try to help him deal with his shitty family. I just…I just don’t always do it right.”

_Interesting. A guardian angel, I would’ve expected, but a guardian demon…?_

“I know you,” she went on after a moment, scooting back to check on Angel, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and stroking his hair. Interesting to see any demon so affectionate. He almost wondered whether he could learn something about this very unfamiliar terrain from watching the two of them together. 

“Do you? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“Nah, but anybody who’s anybody in Hell knows you. And that makes it weirder that you bothered helpin’ us,” she noted, watching him with a healthy dose of suspicion. “I always heard you _liked_ seein’ people suffer.”

 _Yes, Alastor, whatever happened to that brutal inclination that earned you a place in Hell to begin with? How is it you’re now here, doing this, instead?_ There had indeed been a time not long ago when he wouldn’t have involved himself in any altercation between mortals and wouldn’t have felt a bit of guilt afterward. Some part of him was nothing short of furious that this business with Angel had instilled such an undeniable change in his behavior. He should’ve been making deals, collecting souls, entertaining himself with the misery of any mortal foolish enough to trust him, not…whatever this was. Yet all that anger was directed only toward himself and his own weakness; he couldn’t bring himself to resent Angel for being who he was.

“Consider yourself lucky that Angel seems to care about you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made the effort for your sake.”

Cherri let out a scoff. “So no point in me thankin’ you anyway.” When Angel shifted and grimaced, his body starting to shiver slightly, she bit her lip in concern. “I need to take him home. Moll’s seen him like this before; she can help.”

 _With an overdose? What could she possibly do?_ “Do you really think so? Or are you just trying to get him away from me?” Alastor asked, friendly as ever, and the girl blanched. “You aren’t going to stop me talking to him. Even if it doesn’t happen now, it will later.” _I really don’t have much choice in the matter._ He’d delayed for long enough; it was time—beyond time—to take action.

Luckily, he was saved from thinking too hard and sabotaging himself when Angel groaned and his eyes eased open again. “Mph, fuck,” he muttered, turning over slowly to try to push himself up.

“Hey, take it easy,” Cherri told him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“What…happened?” He tried to blink his eyes clear, frowning hard. “I thought…” He trailed off as his gaze found Alastor’s shoes, then slowly trailed upward to take in the rest of him—his vibrant hair, his wicked smile, the antlers atop his head. “This is a fuckin’ weird trip.”

“True as that might be, my being here isn’t part of it,” Alastor answered, and Angel’s eyebrows jumped up as if he hadn’t expected a hallucination to speak. He’d hoped his first words to Angel might be something a bit more charming, but nothing about this was going as he’d hoped, really.

“You…” The boy frowned and pressed a palm against his forehead. “At the club earlier. You were there.”

“I was.” Alastor could hardly contain his giddiness at the fact that this conversation was finally happening.

“Who are you?”

“My name҉ i҉s҉ A҉la҉st҉o҉r,” he said, sweeping an elegant bow. Angel squinted at him, and he realized that in his excitement, his voice was beginning to crackle with static. _This is your first impression; get it together!_ “Ahem. Alastor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you properly.”

“Properly? What’s that mean?”

“Yeah,” Cherri agreed, jerking her chin at him defiantly. “What _does_ that mean?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not sure you’re the one to be asking questions at the moment, dear. Unless you’re planning to provide some answers yourself.”

“What? What’re you talkin’ about?” Angel asked, steadily growing more agitated. “Look, can somebody tell me what the fuck is goin’ on here? D’you two know each other or somethin’?”

Again, Alastor looked to Cherri. “Would you like to explain, or should I?” Angel’s head whipped in her direction, and she tensed up where she sat. She hesitated, looking cornered and panicked, but seemed to realize quickly that it would be safer to confess of her own will than to be exposed by another.

With a sigh, her form shifted to something more recognizably demonic: a single large eye, a mouthful of sharp teeth, clawed fingers, and deathly pale skin. Angel simply stared and blinked at her. “So,” she started without looking at him, “I might be…kind of a…”

“A demon,” Alastor said clearly, and she snarled up at him. “Like me. Well, in some ways.”

“A demon,” Angel repeated after a few seconds. “Are you serious? Like, an actual biblical demon from Hell?”

“Exactly like that,” Alastor agreed, but Angel’s eyes stayed firmly fixed on his friend.

“So what?” he asked. “You were tryin’ to get me killed or somethin’? Taking me out and hopin’ I’d OD? What the fuck, Cherri? I thought we were friends.”

“We are! Babe, it ain’t like that,” she insisted, shifting back to her human form, moving closer and visibly deflating as he withdrew from her. “Come on, you know me. I’m your girl. Always have been. I’ve never let you get hurt before, have I?”

“Yeah, until tonight.”

A moment of silence passed between the two, and although Cherri’s distress didn’t mean much to him, Alastor could see how much pain their disagreement was causing Angel. He felt compelled to do whatever was possible to help that. “I may be an outsider to this situation, but from what I’ve seen, she hasn’t held any ill will toward you, Angel.” No, she hadn’t intentionally endangered him; she had simply failed to protect him.

“And how do _you_ fit into this?” the boy demanded, looking up at him, now very much on the defensive. “You said you’re one too? How d’ya know my name?”

“That’s going to take some explanation. And I would prefer that you and I have that conversation alone, if it’s all right by you.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Cherri growled, eager for conflict with a common enemy. “I’m not leavin’ him alone with you, ya son of a bitch.”

“That ain’t really your call to make,” Angel told her coolly.

“Angel, seriously. I know you’re pissed at me, but this is a big deal. This guy is dangerous.”

“What, because he’s a demon? Does that make him any more dangerous than you?”

“Yes! He’s—”

“Look,” Angel said, pinching the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tightly. “I’m havin’ a hard time handlin’ all this at once. It’ll be easier if I can focus on one thing at a time. You… I need ya to give me some space, all right? Like, I love you, but ya can’t blame me for bein’ a little freaked out. So let me deal with this right now, and you and me can catch up later. Okay?” He turned his eyes toward her again, and although she looked sort of lost, she agreed with a slow nod.

“Yeah. Okay,” she mumbled, getting to her feet. Despite the shine in her eyes, she still managed a vicious glare in Alastor’s direction. “If you hurt him, I’ll snap those fuckin’ horns off your head and cut your heart out with ‘em.”

Without even the will to snipe at her (though he was impressed with that creative threat), Alastor simply nodded toward the hotel’s front door so that she would see herself out as quickly as possible. And so she did, leaving him— _finally_ —alone with the object of his affections. And Angel’s dark eyes fixed firmly on him.

“So?” the boy asked, sitting up properly, pulling his knees to his chest. “What’d you say your name was? Al-somethin’?”

“Alastor.”

“Right. What’s a demon want from somebody like me? I figure I’m a shoo-in for Hell, but I didn’t think it’d happen this soon.”

“You’re surprisingly calm about all this,” Alastor noted.

“Yeah, well the way I see it, there’s like a fifty-fifty chance none of this is real and I’m just havin’ the freakiest trip of my life,” Angel reasoned, tilting his head to one side and looking Alastor over from head to toe in a way that felt like more than simple curiosity. With a mischievous smile, he added, “I’ve had worse hallucinations, though.”

“Ahem!” Alastor tried to force himself to stay calm, to not let the flirting get to him; after all, he knew that was the sort of thing Angel was prone to with any man he found attractive. But then, the idea that Angel was attracted to him… “I can say with some degree of certainty that this _is_ real.”

“We’ll see in the morning, I guess. In the meantime, why’re you here? I mean, I was fucked up so it’s all kinda blurry, but I’m pretty sure you helped us out when those bastards started gettin’ handsy. What was that about?” His body gave another powerful shiver, and he curled in tighter on himself. Without thinking, Alastor swept his coat off and knelt to drape it over Angel’s shoulders. After all, it was late in the year, Autumn edging toward Winter, so he must be cold even without the drugs.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time now,” Alastor confessed, remaining knelt on the floor in his shirtsleeves.

“Huh. Stalked by a demon. That’s a new one,” Angel answered mildly, pulling the coat a little tighter around him. What about that image was so painfully endearing? “How come?”

A very simple question with a very complicated answer. Alastor was normally a master of improvisation, but with the stakes so high, he was having a harder time of it. He had hoped to ease into this information much more gradually, but desperate times and all that.

“Because I want…to help you,” he said carefully.

Angel snorted a laugh. “Sure.”

“I do. I’ve seen the way your family treats you”—at those words, Angel’s smile disappeared, and his eyes dropped toward the ground—“and it isn’t right.”

“So what? What d’you care?”

Alastor let out a sigh and rested his chin in his hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe your family is Catholic. Meaning you know a thing or two about Hell.”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Then you know it’s there to punish those who’ve sinned in life. Those who were immoral, who hurt others, that sort of thing.”

“What’s your point?” Angel asked with a frown.

“My point is that I spent enough time there to recognize a cruel and evil person when I see one. And you don’t fit that description,” the demon explained. “It bothers me to see anyone get more or less than they deserve. Call it a concern for balance. My _point_ is that you deserve better and I can provide it.”

Angel observed him in silence for a moment. “How?”

“However you want.” This pitch had taken quite a turn from the one he’d hoped to give; it was beginning to sound like the sort of speech he gave before making a contract. That was not what he wanted to accomplish with Angel. At least…he didn’t think so.

But then, it would irrevocably bind them together and give him an excuse to stick around. It would also allow him to legitimately keep an eye on Angel and be sure no harm came to him. He would have a right to step in if another man tried to pressure the boy into anything. In fact, all the many potential benefits were quickly filling his head and pushing out all the inevitable negative consequences. _This entire situation is strange enough already. What’s one more complication?_

“I can help you out of your father’s reach,” he went on, resolving to pursue this idea to completion. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ “I can take you somewhere safer, somewhere you’ll be respected. I—”

“Did you kiss me earlier?”

Alastor’s body went rigid, his voice choking off in a squeal of static. “Excuse me?”

“Earlier. When we first got in here.” The boy finally took a moment to look around the room and determine where they were. “I woke up for a second, and you were awful close.”

“You. Ahem. You weren’t breathing,” Alastor explained, every bit of his willpower going into keeping his voice even and his smile calm. “I…did what I could to help.”

“Huh. So ya save me from gettin’ drugged and probably raped. Ya save me from suffocating when I pass out.” He talked as if this was all perfectly normal for him, as if none of the night’s events fazed him at all. “I already owe you for that. And now you’re tryin’ to do _more_ for me? I have a hard time believin’ you’d do all that without expectin’ some kinda payback. So what’re you tryin’ to get outta this?”

Well. That was a very fair assessment of the situation, but it happened to be missing one crucial element. “You don’t owe me anything. I was able to help, so I did. As for what I want…” After a few seconds’ consideration, he got up and offered Angel his hand. “It’s getting late. Will you let me walk you home? We can talk on the way.”

Angel looked at his hand, then back up to meet his gaze, batting his eyelashes pitifully as he whined, “Mm, I don’t think I can walk. I’m still so weak and dizzy. Carry me?” Alastor froze, unsure of how to respond, until the boy’s expression broke into a playful grin, and he laughed, “Relax. I’m just messin’ with ya.” He took the offered hand to get to his feet—and promptly stumbled forward to collide with Alastor’s chest. Judging by the tension in his body and the irritated “shit!” that passed his lips, his teasing might have had some truth to it after all. Nevertheless, he forced himself to his own feet and started out of the hotel with his head high while Alastor tried to shake the feeling of how warm he was.

As they stepped outside, Alastor shifted his form into something more believably human, brown skin and dark hair reminiscent of his appearance in life. The curious once-over Angel gave him said he still presented an interesting enough figure. As they walked side-by-side, Alastor surreptitiously checked now and then to see that the boy was steady and not in danger of falling. And, as promised, he explained in simplest terms what a contract would entail.

“It’s a soul thing, right?” Angel asked plainly, still holding Alastor’s coat close around him. “That’s what it always is. Shitty life, near-death experience, demon shows up and offers to help, but ya gotta give him your soul once it’s over. The whole Faust story. ‘S been done a million times.”

Somehow, he hadn’t expected Angel to know Faust. But what he _did_ expect was to be surprised, and as always, Angel delivered. “Yes, that’s the typical arrangement. Service for a certain period—a set number of years or to the completion of a goal, most often—in exchange for ownership of one’s soul.”

“And you’re saying you could do somethin’ for me that would be worth that?”

“Well, that’s for you to decide. All I can say is that if you’re unhappy with your circumstances, I can provide better ones.”

Angel’s questions of “why me?” and “how long have you been watching?” were deflected with humor or ambiguity. Alastor hadn’t planned to start this conversation with _Hello, I’m a demon, I’m in love with you, and if you can’t or won’t love me back, I’m going to die_ , and he certainly wasn’t going to get into all that on their first night of knowing each other.

Not once but twice, a passing man took an interest in Angel and catcalled him—only to be immediately chased away by the Radio Demon’s protective glare and menacing static. He wasn’t above hurting a mortal for the sake of his interests, and Angel’s interests ranked far higher than his own. After the second time, the boy smiled and hooked his arm through Alastor’s to walk a little closer at his side.

“Y’know, you’re one hell of an actor,” he noted. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you actually cared about me.”

When they reached the Dellarosa home again and stood under the third-floor balcony, Angel started to climb up the ladder Cherri had left there—but considering how exhausted he was and how many mind-altering substances were still flowing through his veins, he fell almost immediately. Into Alastor’s waiting arms, of course.

“I could take you up, if you like,” the demon offered, willing his heart rate not to spike from the sudden contact. Angel’s arms wrapped around his shoulders almost reflexively, and he snuggled closer without argument. Trying to focus on action rather than Angel’s nearness, Alastor stepped into the shadows and swept them up into his room to set the boy carefully on his bed.

“Thanks,” Angel muttered, folding his legs beneath him and running a hand through his hair. “For gettin’ me back home. For everything, I guess.”

“It was no trouble, especially if it meant your safety. Though under this roof, under your father’s control, I’m not sure how safe you can be.”

“Yeah,” Angel laughed dryly. “Yeah, that’s fair. Uh, about your offer—”

Alastor stopped him with a raised hand. “You’ve gone through a lot this evening, Angel; don’t concern yourself with that right now. You should concentrate on recovering.”

As he began to step back, Angel caught his hand, and he couldn’t bring himself to jerk away as he might have from anyone else. The boy pulled him close to the bed, and he allowed it, stopping at the edge while Angel’s fingers worked carefully through his. He hardly realized his eyes had fallen closed until Angel whispered, “Alastor. Look at me.”

So he did, unable to refuse a direct command and shocked by how much he enjoyed his name on the boy’s lips. Between the haze in his dark eyes, the part in his lips, and all the skin his outfit displayed, Angel was the very picture of temptation, entirely too gorgeous for his own good. Something about this moment, the two of them alone in his darkened bedroom, had become much more intimate than expected. A sense of comfort, maybe, after the distress they’d endured earlier.

And Angel clearly felt it too. “D’you hafta go?”

Alastor swallowed hard. What to do here? Judging by the way Angel leaned toward him and wet his lips, he could guess what the boy had in mind. While it was true he didn’t have much interest in sex as a general rule, what he _did_ have was a powerful desire to be as close to Angel as possible: to please him and hear his voice pitch upward with longing, to taste his lips, to know he was satisfied…

The Radio Demon’s chest constricted painfully, forcing him out of his own amorous musings and back into the reality of the moment. “Yes,” he managed, tearing his eyes away from Angel’s. No matter how much he would’ve liked to, it would be wrong to accept any sort of advances under these circumstances. _He’s not in his right mind. I would be taking advantage of him as surely as those brutes in the club._ “And you really should get some rest.”

“But you can’t just leave,” Angel insisted, holding tight onto his sleeve, as if letting go would allow him to disappear. “What if I wanna see you again? What if I wanna talk? I don’t want this to just be a trip. I want you to be real.” There was a certain air of desperation in his voice that wrenched at Alastor’s heart.

“Then it’s a good thing that I am.” His free hand trailed lightly up Angel’s cheek, then combed through his hair. It was a valid point; Alastor himself hardly wanted this conversation to be their only one. “If you want to see me again…come back to the hotel we were in tonight. You remember where it was?”

“Yeah.” Angel sat up on his knees, his eyes clearing up enough to sparkle with excitement. “Even if I don’t, Cherri can remind me. And if I go, you’ll be there? You swear?” As if he could begin to argue.

“I’ll be there, _cher_ ,” Alastor assured him. “If you want me, that’s where I’ll be.” Angel nodded slowly, nuzzling his head into Alastor’s hand. After a moment more of insistent clinging, he eventually succumbed to his weariness, relaxing into the bed without ever letting go.

The Radio Demon could hardly believe how well this had gone. Perhaps not the way he’d expected, perhaps not the way he’d hoped, but judging by Angel’s reluctance to let him leave, it had gone well enough. He very carefully extricated his hand from the boy’s grip before rushing out onto the balcony to lean over the railing and cough out the petals he’d been holding back for the past half-hour. Were there more this time? It was hard to tell. But it seemed the sickness always got worse when he found himself dwelling on his desires without acting on them.

Realizing that he was without it, he considered trying to get his coat out from under Angel without waking him but thought better of it. Better for him to have some concrete evidence that this conversation had actually happened so he wouldn’t brush it all off as a hallucination.

It was all he could do to hope that even once Angel woke, even once his mind was no longer clouded and his judgment no longer skewed, he might still have some interest in getting to know a demon. If not, Alastor might very well have ruined the only chance he had of being cured.


	4. The Makings of a Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some deliberation, Angel decides to take Alastor up on his offer of a contract, and with a very specific goal: to utterly ruin his father. What he's asking for is no small feat, but Alastor is ready to make his plan a reality. In fact, he's looking forward to it. _Maybe not the best way to start a relationship, but not the worst either._

Alastor spent the next 72 hours waiting in that abandoned hotel downtown, hoping Angel would show up at some point. He didn’t even dare go back to the Dellarosa home in order to observe; he had promised that he would be waiting if Angel came looking, and so he would be. The place, it turned out, was every bit as empty as it seemed. During his stay, he wasn’t disturbed once—which gave him far too much time to think.

With every day that passed, he became more convinced that he had made a terrible mistake in revealing his nature to Angel. Maybe his being under the influence was the only thing that had kept him from panicking and fleeing that night when they spoke, and now that he was sober again, he wouldn’t risk going back. It was even possible that Cherri had spoken to him again and explained exactly who Alastor—the Radio Demon—was and how he operated. If that were the case, then surely all was lost; he had no shortage of damning stories in his past.

His illness didn’t let up in the slightest, particularly because he was spending so much time thinking about Angel. If he weren’t already dead, he might worry about how much blood he was losing. As things stood, he had more pressing things to concern himself with.

At the end of another idle afternoon of walking the halls and trying to divine what might have happened in each room, an hour or two before sunset, Alastor heard movement downstairs. Despite being on the tenth floor at the time, he was sensitive enough to auditory detail that he caught the sound nevertheless. He froze as he heard the front door creak open, followed by a few tentative steps and—his heartbeat stuttered—Angel’s voice calling his name.

Within seconds, he was back downstairs to find an apprehensive Angel standing at the hotel’s front desk. He was dressed differently this evening, dressed more like his sister than his brother, and he clutched Alastor’s coat in both hands. Trying his best for Suave & Charming, hoping to present himself more confidently this time, Alastor met him with a smile. “You called?”

“Hey!” Angel’s face lit up with relief. “I was afraid you’d be gone already. I wanted to come sooner, but my old man was hasslin’ me about my clothes, and I hate goin’ out like _this_ ”—he gestured in disgust to his outfit—“but I got tired of waiting, so. Uh, here I am. I’m really glad you’re still here. Is this where you live or somethin’?”

“No, but I said you could find me here, and I don’t like to go back on my word.”

The boy seemed much more lucid than in their prior conversation as he added, “Oh, I brought this back too.” He held out the coat, which Alastor accepted and shrugged back into. “I almost thought I dreamt you up as some kinda last ditch option to get away from my family. But I found that when I woke up, and then I talked to Cherri and she came clean about everything.”

“You two made up, then?”

“Oh, sure. She’s my best friend. Her bein’ dead wasn’t gonna change that. Besides, I get why she didn’t tell me. It ain’t exactly somethin’ ya lead a conversation with—well, _you_ do, maybe.”

“Not typically,” Alastor chuckled. “In fact, I don’t often speak to humans at all. You’re an exception.”

Angel’s smile widened knowingly, arms crossed over his chest as his shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Somehow, despite his admission that he was less comfortable, his being forced to present as feminine didn’t seem to have dampened his confidence at all. “Yeah, that’s kinda the impression I got. And I been thinkin’ a lot about that deal you mentioned before. Were you serious about that?”

Alastor tried his best not to let his hopes run away with him. “Of course.”

“Well, I feel like there is somethin’ I could use a hand with if you’re up to it. You got all this power, right? Said you can help me however I want?”

“That’s right. I doubt there’s anything you could ask for that I wouldn’t be able to accomplish.”

“Great. So you can help me run my old man’s business into the ground.”

That was hardly the request he’d expected. In fact, he could’ve guessed a hundred times without ever coming to that idea. “His business? That’s where you want to focus?”

“It’s pretty much the only thing he cares about. His pride and his money—and one’s tied to the other,” Angel explained, sounding every bit the shrewd businessman a mafia prince was expected to be. “Don’t think this is somethin’ I just came up with in the past couple days. I been thinkin’ about how to pull it off for years. Then you show up and say you can help me do it. That _is_ what you’re sayin’, isn’t it?”

“I’ll admit it’s a tall order, but I can manage it,” Alastor assured him. “You’re saying you want to sabotage him?”

“Better,” the boy said with a grin. “I wanna outmatch him. I wanna put together a business of my own that puts his to shame. My own family.”

“I see. It sounds like this goal of yours has several parts to it.”

“But that’s no problem for you, right?” Angel argued innocently. He counted off on his fingers: “Make me a boss, help me build my family, eventually help me ruin everything my old man’s ever worked for. Easy.”

“And that would be worth trading your soul?” Alastor asked.

“You make that happen for me and I’ll give ya whatever you want,” the boy said with a wicked smirk, sending Alastor’s heart rate skyrocketing again.

“You’re sure?” With anyone else, he would call it a fair deal and settle it without further inquiry. But with Angel? He needed to be absolutely certain the boy wanted this before jumping into anything. The last thing he wanted was for Angel to later regret it and resent him.

“I told ya, I didn’t come up with this overnight. I’m just lucky I held off leavin’ home as long as I did.” The fire in Angel’s eyes burned away all teasing mirth, and he said firmly, “I’ve wanted this for years, Alastor. You’ve seen how he treats me, how they all treat me, and you said it yourself: it ain’t right. I’m sick and fuckin’ tired of it. Before you showed up, I figured my best bet to get away was marryin’ into some other family—but that ain’t what I want. I don’t wanna be some capo’s little fuckin’ wife and pretend I’m satisfied with that. I wanna be in charge of my own life. If that means givin’ up my soul, hell yeah, it’s worth it.”

It was that passion, possibly even that righteous anger, that had caught Alastor’s attention to begin with. If there were any one thing to be said about this boy, it was that every one of his feelings was powerful enough to move mountains. Powerful enough, evidently, to force an archdemon to develop some feelings of his own. How could Alastor be expected to stand against that? How could he be expected to resist?

The simplest answer was that he couldn’t.

“Then I’ll do my very best to serve you in the meantime,” he conceded, inclining his head.

“Serve me, huh?” Angel’s voice turned soft and smooth now that Alastor was no longer arguing with him. Running his fingers lightly along the demon’s chin to tilt his head up again, he added with a playful smile, “I like the sound of that. Does this mean you hafta do whatever I say?”

 _Probably not for the reason you think._ “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Alastor chided, pulling away from his touch if for no other reason than to maintain his focus on the subject at hand. “I can promise to support your goals to the best of my ability—and if on the off chance there is a problem my power can’t solve, I’ll do all I can to enable you to solve it instead.”

“And?” Angel prompted.

“I’ll use my influence to further your family and eliminate your enemies. Above all”— _so help me God_ —“I’ll ensure you’re kept safe and respected.”

“And…?” The boy grinned, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“ _And_ ,” Alastor repeated, ready to rise to whatever challenge was being issued, “anything else you might ask of me. Say the word and it’s done.” Of course, for anyone else, that condition would be completely off the table, as he didn’t much care for being so thoroughly bound to someone else’s will—but in Angel’s case, he was already willing to do anything the boy asked; what harm was there in stipulating it as part of their contract?

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Angel answered, satisfied. “You do all that for me, and once I die, you can have my soul. Deal?” He offered his hand, and Alastor shook it firmly.

“Deal.” There was a familiar tingle of binding magic as the contract was sealed, forming a connection between the two that couldn’t be severed unless Alastor somehow failed to uphold his end of the bargain. He did not intend to fail. “First things first.” He summoned his staff and flicked it in Angel’s direction. The skirt and blouse Angel had earlier lamented transformed into something much more fitting: a navy suit, double-breasted and tailored to Angel’s measurements.

“Hey!” The boy jumped at the sudden shift, and Alastor conjured a full-length mirror so he could inspect himself. In clothing that fit both his body and his identity, he was, if possible, even more attractive.

“You know what they say. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. I would say your hair could use a trim too, but for now…” With a flick of one hand, the Radio Demon produced a fedora to complete the look and offered it to Angel. Practically beaming with delight, the boy swept his hair back away from his face and placed the hat on his head, pulling the rim down slightly as he looked himself over from every angle.

“Not bad,” he cooed appreciatively. “Pops’d have a heart attack if he saw me like this.” That statement was made with great relish.

“As tempting as that is, it’s probably best if you don’t go back to his place. After all, he is your rival now,” Alastor pointed out.

“Obviously I don’t wanna go back, but we got a lot to do before I can move out. We don’t even have a place to work out of yet, and it’s not like we can stay here.”

Alastor tilted his head to one side. “Why not? I think this place would make for a fantastic headquarters. Plenty of room to accommodate guests and associates, a location right here in the middle of town, and quite a landmark to put your name on. Where else could be better?”

“But somebody’s gotta own the place. And whoever it is probably wouldn’t like us movin’ in without their okay,” Angel pointed out.

“Just you leave that to me,” Alastor said with a wink. “Didn’t we discuss this already? If you want this building, it’s yours.”

“Hm.” The boy looked around, thoughtful. “We could make it work, I guess. It’s gonna take some time to get it cleaned up and ready to use, though.”

Alastor chuckled, shaking his head. “O ye of little faith.” He stamped the end of his staff into the ground, and the shadows responded immediately, swirling through the room to sweep away dust, repair damaged upholstery, restore wiring and the chandelier overhead—whatever was needed to make the hotel functional again. The walls were papered deep red by no particular will of Alastor’s, but he didn’t bother changing it. It was rather striking, the way he saw it, and it fit nicely with the room’s dark wood furnishings. He watched the shadows disappear up the stairs and knew they would give the same treatment to every floor. Soon enough, all 1000+ rooms would be ready to use however Angel saw fit.

Angel watched the entire process with wide eyes, marveling at the sparkling crystal chandelier above them with his mouth hanging slightly open. This particular feat required much more power than Alastor typically bothered using in a single act, but the look of incredulity on the boy’s face and the smile that followed after made it completely worthwhile.

“All right,” Angel admitted. “I’m impressed.” _Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet._

“Let’s see. Personal image: check. Location: check,” Alastor said, glancing around the newly-renovated lobby. Now that the room was properly lit, he could see just how grand it was. There were two elevators on either side; a mezzanine where he could see the makings of a lounge; and at the back of the room, a broad staircase that opened onto a landing, then curved on either side to lead to the upper level. Very picturesque. “Now all we need is a family to fill it.”

“Ya got that up your sleeve too?”

“In a manner of speaking; I know a few people I can call, at least.”

“People,” Angel repeated, “or demons?”

“Yes,” Alastor snickered. “Capable individuals, I assure you, and isn’t that what really matters? Now, who would you say is the most important part of a mafia family, next to the boss?”

“ _Consigliere_ ,” Angel answered without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s the boss’s advisor, usually somebody that’s been in the business a while. He helps with finances, competition with other families, pretty much every aspect of runnin’ the show.”

“Hmm. A jack of all trades, then, someone with business sense and a head for strategy,” Alastor reasoned, considering his list of contacts to determine who might fit best into this position. Only one name came to mind.

With a clap of his hands, another demon manifested at the top of the stairs, a snakelike creature with an elaborate Victorian ensemble and several golden accessories. She blinked as if mildly surprised, and her luminous yellow eyes quickly fell on Alastor and Angel. With a patient smile, she shifted into an entirely human form, one with dark skin and sleek black hair bobbed at her shoulders. Tall, slender, clad in high-waisted slacks and a well-fitted blouse, she looked nothing if not professional.

“Alastor,” she purred with a slight hiss on the S, waltzing her way down the stairs as if this were a sort of mischief she had expected. Her heels clicked on the wood floor with every step. “It’s been a while. What are we doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Venture,” the Radio Demon answered. Gesturing to Angel, he explained, “My charge is a soon-to-be crime lord and has need of a—well, my Italian is a little rusty; what was the word, Angel?”

“Consigliere,” the boy repeated, looking the new arrival up and down appraisingly.

“An advisor,” Alastor explained. “I could think of no better fit for that role than you. And you do owe me a favor or two, yes?”

“Wait, her?” Angel protested. “It can’t be her. She’s…” He gestured vaguely at her body, and Venture tossed her head back with a laugh.

“What? A woman?” Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she stood on one hip, holding herself with all the confidence one would expect of an Overlord. “I certainly am, pet, and the best damned businesswoman this side of the Nile.”

“Venture has been an entrepreneur for millennia,” Alastor explained. “Gender notwithstanding, you won’t find anyone better suited to the position.”

“Flatterer,” she chuckled.

“Guys in the business don’t respect women,” Angel insisted. “And they ain’t gonna respect me if I’m listenin’ to one.”

“Success speaks louder than appearances,” Venture said evenly. “My guidance can make you richer than Croesus, and I promise you, where money goes, respect follows.” _She always has been persuasive._ “Luckily for you, I don’t have anything more interesting in the works right now. I don’t mind sticking around—assuming you’ll have me, sweetness.” She gave Angel an expectant look, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Fine, but you’re gonna have to cut that condescending bullshit. No matter how much experience you have, as long as you’re here, I’m your boss. So if we’re gonna work together, you can’t be talkin’ down to me. Got it?” Well, he had certainly adjusted to the role of boss quickly! Alastor almost worried his insolence would lose them an ally, but Venture seemed more amused than offended.

“Feisty, isn’t he?” she said, stealing a glance at Alastor. Nevertheless, she bowed to Angel with a flourish. “Of course, _sir_ , you’ll have my utmost respect at all times. Now, is this our first endeavor?” She shifted her attention to the room they were in, looking it over critically. “The color scheme is a bit obvious, but I’m sure I can make it work. Whoever did your decorating clearly has taste.”

“What, the hotel?” Angel asked, watching her stride over to the gleaming front desk to check out the space behind it. “I can see it as a front, but why bother actually runnin’ it?”

“The better question is why not,” Venture countered, digging a phone book out of one of the drawers. “It’s a source of income that wouldn’t require much oversight on your part, and having guests in and out regularly will help cover up any less, uh, legitimate dealings you want to do here. Little to lose, lots to gain.”

“But it ain’t the kinda business a respectable family runs,” Angel argued stubbornly, arms crossed. “There’s rules and traditions ya gotta take into account. My old man would never—” He stopped himself for a moment, likely realizing that something about his approach was off. “Actually, ya know what? Sure. Havin’ the place up and runnin’ is a smart move. You can get that started on your own?”

“Leave it to me, _habiibii_ ,” she agreed distractedly, waving a hand to conjure a rotary phone on the countertop. In moments, she was thoroughly engrossed in making calls, taking to the job like a fish to water and all but forgetting the room’s other two occupants.

“That’s how I wanna do things,” Angel decided, turning to Alastor again. “I’m gonna make this family the most successful one in the city, and I’m gonna do it by blowin’ all my old man’s rules to Hell.”

“Oh? That’s an unusual business model.”

“You said I can have anything I want,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrows, hands on his hips. “What I want is to prove all his bullshit principles and traditions are holdin’ him back, and to prove I can do his job better. And you’re gonna help me do it.” His tone brooked no argument, and indeed, Alastor offered none.

“I look forward to working with you, Don Dellarosa,” he replied—but Angel grimaced at the title.

“Ugh, no, that’s my old man. Besides, we can’t have two Dellarosa families in the same city. Ours is gonna need a different name.” He screwed up his face thoughtfully. “Any ideas?”

Biting his lower lip as he considered, curiously observing his new consigliere’s work, he exuded such potential, such determination. He had set a goal for himself (years ago, it seemed) and would achieve it whatever the cost—even if it meant his immortal soul. Conviction that powerful commanded respect. Alastor felt another cough coming on and struggled to hold it back, clearing his throat as an answer came to mind.

“Giardino,” he suggested, and Angel raised an eyebrow at him.

“‘S a little plain. Why that?”

Alastor shrugged and reasoned, “If your father’s family deals in roses, what clearer statement than to claim the entire garden for yourself?”

At this explanation, Angel’s lips split into a grin, and it was by sheer force of will that Alastor didn’t wince from the pain in his chest. “I like the way you think, Al. Angel Giardino… Kinda has a nice ring to it. We’ll need more than just the three of us, obviously—”

“Which I’ll take care of within a few days.”

“—but once we’re in business? The Giardinos are gonna run this city,” he said with absolute confidence, looking over the lobby that was now his domain. Knowing that all the satisfaction and anticipation on the boy’s face was his doing had Alastor’s heart racing with delight. Maybe this arrangement would turn out better than expected. Angel looked at him, expectant, excited, ready to move forward. “So? Whaddaya say we plant some fuckin’ flowers?”

_Done and done, cher._


	5. Define 'Family'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Angel and the Giardinos are coming into their own as a crime family, Alastor is having trouble reading the boss's feelings toward him--that is, whether he has any. Of course, the moment he lets his guard down, an old threat comes back into the picture. _Just when things were going so well..._

Venture, it turned out, was as good as her word. Within a month, the hotel was fully functional and attracting guests, in addition to the other more ‘traditional’ fields she and Angel were pursuing—drugs, guns, that sort of thing. As promised, Alastor had leveraged favors, paid bribes, made threats, and generally talked circles around other demons until they had a ‘family’ of a respectable size. Not the most wholesome bunch, maybe, but an effective one nonetheless!

“It’s been a week and a fuckin’ half and Cortez is still draggin’ his feet on this deal,” Angel grumbled from his desk as he looked over the report he’d just been handed. “Venn, we got any other options to get these ACPs shipped? I’m tired of waitin’ on this asshole.”

“I’m sure I could find someone else if you insist,” Venture answered, leaning against the edge of the desk. She had her own, of course, but Alastor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her sit at it. Too much to do, he supposed. “But the Cortezes could be useful to us. Are you sure you want to burn that bridge so quickly?”

The boss let out a groan and dropped his head back while he thought the matter over. This sort of conversation had become typical of a day’s work, even comfortable. Early on in their operations, the hotel’s third floor had been converted into a sort of administration department, including a spacious joint office from which the two of them oversaw operations. Alastor spent most of his time in this office as well, ready to provide whatever assistance Angel might need of him.

The position of underboss still wasn’t entirely clear to him, but Angel had given him the title, so he accepted it. _Well, I wasn’t planning to join the Mob, but why not?_ It wasn’t as if his legal record before now was entirely spotless. Besides, it gave him some legitimacy and authority when dealing with humans who didn’t understand the _real_ reason it was stupid to challenge him.

“All right, I’ll give him ‘til the end of the week,” Angel decided. “After that, I’m takin’ my merchandise elsewhere. And make sure he knows it.”

“Will do.” And she was off to her desk to make a call.

Angel sat still for a moment, fidgeting with one of his pens and stealing very obvious glances in Alastor’s direction. _Cute._ Still, he pretended not to notice, remaining where he sat on the sofa against the wall until the boss finally called, “Hey, Al?”

“Hey, Angel.” It still struck him as odd every time he heard his own voice without its usual overlay of static. His public position in the family required him to maintain his human guise most of the time, just as Venture did hers, and he was still getting used to the change.

The boy smiled and rolled his eyes. “C’mere a minute.” So he did. Mercifully, over the past few weeks, his illness hadn’t gotten any worse—but it was certainly still present and not letting up. Much like Angel’s playful flirting. The boss hopped up from his chair to seat himself on the desk instead, crossing one leg over the other. His new wardrobe really did suit him (no pun intended). When Alastor got close enough, he reached out to slip his fingertips under the demon’s tie and lead him closer still. Whether the fluttering in Alastor’s chest was literal or figurative, it was difficult to say.

“Did you need something?” he asked, doing an admirable job of pretending Angel’s familiarity didn’t affect him. He sometimes got the feeling those efforts backfired, though, as Angel would often flirt harder _because_ he seemed so indifferent, until he finally broke down and turned away or his smile faltered into uncertainty.

“I’m goin’ out with Cherri and a couple of the guys for drinks tonight,” Angel stated, watching closely for Alastor’s reaction.

“I see. Are you asking me to come along and keep an eye on you?” he asked, gently prying Angel’s fingers away from his tie. “Have I been demoted from underboss to bodyguard that quickly? I wasn’t even given a verbal citation.”

“Oh, shut up,” Angel laughed. “I’m askin’ you to come as _you_. Full stop.”

That was unexpected. He’d never invited Alastor along on his outings with Cherri—who had become an informant and supplier for the Giardinos—before.

“Are you sure that’s for the best?” Alastor asked. “Call me crazy, but I get the feeling ‘the guys’ aren’t quite as comfortable around me as they are around you. I wouldn’t want to put a damper on your night out.”

“So what’re ya sayin’? You’d rather it just be the two of us?” Angel teased.

“I think it’s safe to say most men would prefer your company over mine.” He managed to keep his voice level despite nearing the limits of his tolerance. Much more exposure to that smile on Angel’s face and he was sure to get short of breath soon.

“C’mon, is it the Overlord thing? Venn’s going!”

“No, I’m not,” Venture interjected without looking up from her work.

“You are if I say you are, Cleopatra,” Angel shot right back. “Hell, you need a night off more than anyone.” Alastor’s policy of ‘I can get you whatever you want’ may have spoiled him a bit. Or maybe it was the power that came with being boss. Yet she still seemed amused by his pushy attitude and smiled regardless.

“What the don says goes,” she conceded with a shrug.

“Exactly. So are you onboard or what?” he asked Alastor, raising his eyebrows. Realistically, Alastor wasn’t likely to enjoy the outing, especially when Angel’s attention would probably be elsewhere. He didn’t often say no to any request the boss— “Alastor.” When the boy got to his feet, it left just inches between them. Crossing his arms, leaning a little closer with the slightest curve on his lips belying his innocent tone, he purred, “Tell me you’re gonna go.”

Despite Alastor’s efforts to hide it, it was a fact that he couldn’t stand against Angel’s charm indefinitely. And, foolishly, he had allowed Angel to pick up on that fact. It wasn’t that he disliked the persuasion. It was gratifying to know that his presence was something the boss was willing to push for. But he would’ve much preferred if agreeing were a _choice_ on his part. Instead, his illness flared up again, tension and pain making it that much harder to argue.

Turning away, unable to handle the hopeful look in those big brown eyes, he forced out, “Whatever you want, Angel.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the boy said with a grin. “Eclipse Lounge. Eight o’clock. Better get there on time if you want a seat next to me.” With a last satisfied smirk, he left the room, snatching his hat off the desk as he went. Alastor remained where he stood and watched him go, waiting for his symptoms to subside.

It was becoming more and more difficult, if not impossible, to tell whether all the flirtation and teasing Angel showered on him was just a method of manipulating him or…something else. After all, it was simply a part of Angel’s personality to make suggestive comments and use his looks to his advantage. That was the reason Alastor tried so hard to respond to it neutrally; if he were to take it too seriously and answer with his honest thoughts on the matter, it might easily put Angel off or scare him away.

“Hmmm~, you two are quite a pair,” Venture mused from where she stood in the far corner of the room.

“There are two of us, so yes, technically.”

“You know your one-liners get a little less snappy when you’re distracted?” She sauntered her way to his side and re-aligned the tie that Angel had skewed. “I’m sure if you told him how you feel about sex, he’d tone down the flirting _tout de suite_.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me on the subject, so I have no reason to discuss it with him.” Looking up at her cautiously, he noted, “You two seem to be getting along well. Has he said something to _you_?”

“Oh no, I’m not here to play Mafia Matchmaker,” she said, raising both hands as she stepped back to seat herself in the boss’s chair and give it a spin. “But I will say you’re taking this much more seriously than usual. Why, I’ve never seen you so serious, in fact.”

“My friend, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean. Levity is my middle name.”

“Is that so?” Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her ankles on the desk in front of her and watched his reaction. As if something in his posture or expression were proving her point, she continued curiously, “See? Even this. It’s bothering you. It’s almost as if you really think of that boy as your superior, but I’m sure I know you better than that.” The way she looked at him said she wasn’t sure at all.

“Do you know what your problem is, Venture?” He bent at the waist to be at eye-level with her and said cheerfully, “You think too much. You really should learn to take a step back, smell the roses—you _are_ working in a garden these days, after all.”

“Careful what you wish for. Snakes and gardens, historically, don’t mix well.”

“And if anyone under this roof were concerned with salvation, that might just be an issue. As it is, you fit into our merry band of misfits quite nicely—so stop trying so hard to maintain your distance. We both know it won’t last forever.”

“Hm.” Her expression remained placid for the most part, but there was a slight furrow in her brow. All things considered, Venture was the last demon on Earth who had any right to judge Alastor’s investment in Angel. And she must have realized it as well. With an exaggeratedly nonchalant shrug, she sat up properly and started organizing the many file folders that cluttered the boss’s desk. “Well? You heard the man. Don’t be late.”

— — —

As bidden, Alastor showed up at the Eclipse Lounge at 7:54. The room was softly lit, low-ceilinged, with a light haze of cigar smoke and a low murmur of chatter from its guests. The word ‘intimate’ came to mind. Fitting for a place where crime lords often gathered and all sorts of illicit deals were made. In the center of the room was a bar forming a continuous ring, so one could approach it from any side. And on his left, seated in the very center of a circular, leather-upholstered booth, was Angel. Spotting him, the boy grinned and waved him over, so he took the place where he felt he belonged: right at Angel’s side.

“I knew you were gonna be the first one here.” The boss looked as smug as ever, fully relaxed in his seat and sipping a John Collins. (Well, how could Alastor _not_ know his go-to cocktail of choice?)

“How’s that?”

“Cuz of what I said about sittin’ by me. I know you don’t like lettin’ me outta your sight. Maybe you think I’m gonna get fucked up again like that night with Cherri. Am I right?”

“To think that I want to keep an eye on you? Absolutely.”

“Besides,” Angel added casually, “I told everybody else eight-fifteen.”

“So _you_ were the one who wanted it to be just the two of us.” Something about that knowledge was immensely satisfying. “Why, Angel, I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get a big head about it. I just wanted us to have a minute outside the office. Been tryin’ to make it happen for a week now and kept chickenin’ out, so I figured it’d be easier if it was a group thing.” The boy stirred his drink slowly without looking at Alastor. Interesting that he would admit to a strategy like this so openly. Doubly interesting that he would bother making such plans in the first place.

“You already know you have my attention whenever you want it,” Alastor pointed out. “You could have just asked.”

“I guess. It’s a lot easier givin’ orders than makin’ requests, though. Anyway, that’s what we’re here for. That’s kinda what all this”—he gestured to the room—“was about. Me gettin’ your attention.”

With the way Angel was watching him, so thoughtful, so intent, Alastor’s mouth went dry all of a sudden. There was nothing playful or teasing in the boy’s tone. For once, it didn’t come with a wink and a smirk. Instead, he was just waiting, as if he’d expected Alastor might need a moment to consider.

“What sort of attention,” the demon managed, “exactly?”

“Hm. Ask me again once we get back to the hotel.”

All signs were pointing in a very positive direction, but Alastor still tried to fight the surge of excitement and hope that rushed through him. “Angel—”

“Wow, it’s a fuckin’ snoozefest in here.” Cherri had appeared and now scooted into the booth on Angel’s other side, speaking a bit louder than necessary. As usual. “Who picked this dump, anyway? I bet it was you, old man.” She jerked her chin at Alastor.

“Hey, c’mon, it ain’t that bad,” Angel said, nudging her with his elbow. “Besides, once you get a couple drinks in ya, you won’t even notice anymore.”

And so their few minutes of alone time were brushed aside to be replaced with ‘family bonding activities.’ As Angel had said, a few Giardino capos showed up soon after Cherri, and as Alastor had predicted, they seemed a bit uneasy with his presence. But after a round and a half of drinks, they relaxed enough to chat comfortably with the boss, which was nice to see. Venture waltzed in a little after 9 o’clock, and a somewhat tipsy Angel berated her for being late while she waved him off and told him to be happy she’d come at all.

Alastor wasn’t much of a drinker himself and so sat sipping sparkling water while the others had their fun. Angel, he noticed, seemed to be pacing himself intentionally—but he was still drunk enough to giggle excessively at his capos’ jokes. He didn’t go any further than that in terms of flirting, not with them or with Alastor. He did, however, consistently toy with Alastor’s hand under the table, fingertips tracing his knuckles and down the lines of his fingers, sneaking up to brush against his wrist, and generally making it very difficult to focus on conversation. He couldn’t imagine a better distraction.

The outing wasn’t as bad as expected, Alastor supposed. He himself had always had difficulty forming attachments to those around him or close interpersonal relationships, but there was a certain sense of camaraderie among the rest of the group, which was positive. Familiarity could translate to loyalty, and when dealing with demons, any extra measure to assure loyalty should be taken. More than anything, it was nice to see Angel comfortable and confident, assured of himself as he should always—

A sharp baritone rang out across the room: “Antonia?”

_Merde._


	6. Lead Us Not into Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and his fledgling family face down their main rival, but the war is only just beginning. Alastor's willpower is tested yet again, and with Angel's talent for wearing him down, he isn't sure how much longer it will hold. _'Anything you might ask of me' was a provision of the contract, after all._

At the sound of his father’s voice, Angel went completely rigid in his seat, stricken with panic of a sort Alastor hadn’t seen in him for weeks. Alastor’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and found Enrico leaving a nearby table to approach their booth. _Damn it!_ He had been so lost in enjoying Angel’s company that his vigilance had slipped; he never even saw Enrico enter the bar. Yet now there he was, and there was no way to avoid confronting him.

“I think you got the wrong guy,” Angel answered, sure to keep his voice level as he tilted his hat downward to shadow his face. His grip on Alastor’s hand seemed to steady him. “The name’s Angel Giardino. Whoever you’re lookin’ for, I never heard of ‘em.”

“Very funny,” Enrico said, his expression a mixture of relief and anger. “Where the hell’ve you been? Your ma’s been worried sick, and don’t even get me started on Molly.” Angel winced at that; of all his relatives, Molly was the only one he bore no ill will. Looking around at the group, his father asked, “And who’re you people?”

“This’s my family,” Angel said firmly. They knew his father’s people had been looking for him—but considering they were looking for an Antonia Dellarosa and everyone he dealt with lately knew him as Angel Giardino, the search had been fruitless. The plan was for him to introduce himself and his new position once they were more established, but it seemed that was no longer an option.

“You know this guy, boss?” one of the capos asked, understandably confused. Between Angel’s recently-bleached hair and his softer features, there was little to no resemblance between him and Enrico, and none of the others had heard his old name either. The embarrassment of being outed to his men flashed across Angel’s face briefly before he composed himself again.

“Nah,” he answered coolly. “And he sure as hell don’t know shit about me.”

“In that case,” Venture piped up, watching Enrico with venom in her eyes, “I don’t think we have any further business together.”

“Who d’ya think you are to make that call?” Enrico asked, looking her up and down and seeming somewhat confused by her image. “Another woman that thinks she’s a man?”

“Oh, where are my manners? Venn Hassan.” She offered her hand, but he ignored it, so she instead gestured to Angel and went on, “I’m Don Giardino’s consigliere.”

Enrico let out a bark of cold laughter. “Don? You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. How much is she payin’ you to play this little game?” Alastor was making a concentrated effort at controlling his irritation so his static wouldn’t give him away, but that man was certainly testing him.

“It ain’t a fuckin’ game, and if you know what’s good for ya, you’re gonna take us seriously,” Angel growled, gripping Alastor’s hand a little tighter. The demon returned the gesture, hoping to convey that he would offer whatever support was needed without overstepping his bounds and trying to speak for the boss. If at any point he felt the situation was getting out of hand, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in—but until then, Angel had the floor. “We’ll see if you’re still laughin’ when I run your ass outta town.”

“All right, that’s enough. This is cute and all, but I’m done messin’ around. Get your ass over here and I’m takin’ you home.”

“Look, he already said to fuck off,” Cherri snapped, unable to subdue her protective feelings toward Angel, especially when it came to his father. “Learn to take a damn hint.”

“Stay out of this, _zoccola_.”

Angel responded with a string of impassioned Italian, releasing Alastor’s hand and shoving to his feet. “Walk away, Dellarosa,” he snarled.

Enrico let out a scoff and took a step forward to rest both hands on the table. “Or what?”

With a snap of Angel’s fingers, every demon at the table was on their feet and reaching for a concealed weapon, be it the standard pistol carried by the capos or something more creative like Cherri’s knuckledusters or Venture’s knives. Even Alastor had his shadows at the ready, willing to do whatever was necessary if it meant protecting Angel. Maybe part of him was especially eager to repay the suffering Enrico had caused.

With a look of almost giddy delight, Angel leaned against the table to mirror his father’s position and asked sweetly, “You sure ya wanna find out?”

A moment passed in tense stillness as if Enrico were determining how serious the group was about defending their don. Finally, he lifted his hands and took a step back. Looking Angel in the eye, he added, “This conversation ain’t finished.” Then with a last resentful glare, he stalked back to the table where some of his own goons were waiting.

“That was pretty great,” Angel snickered as he sat back down, “but you can all relax now. Sit down; you’re makin’ a scene.”

“You sure you don’t wanna leave?” Cherri asked, eyeing him cautiously.

“What, let that asshole chase us out? No fuckin’ way. Somebody get me another one of these.” He waved his nearly-empty glass.

Despite their efforts, the group couldn’t seem to go back to the same level of carefree enjoyment as before now that they knew there was a hostile presence there in the bar with them. Enrico repeatedly stole glowering looks in their direction, and Alastor tried to return each one with an equally intimidating glare of his own. After another round of drinks, Venture was the first to call it a night, giving some excuse about all the work there was to do in the morning. One of the others offered to ‘escort’ her to the hotel and was immediately shot down with a sinister hiss and a flash of yellow eyes. On her way out, she gave Alastor a look as if to remind him that Angel was his responsibility. As if he could’ve forgotten.

Although it was nearing midnight when the remaining group left the lounge, Cherri and the others were planning to find another bar, one that would be, as she said, “more fun.” Nudging Angel, she asked, “You in?”

“Eh, I don’t think so,” he said apologetically. “Pretty sure I just downed a whole bottle’s worth of gin, so I’m done for tonight. Go ahead; me and Al can get back on our own.”

Cherri frowned, looking up at Alastor mistrustfully as if he were the one who had suggested this plan. “You sure? I can come with if—”

“Babe,” Angel said pointedly. “We got it. Just go.” Though she clearly disapproved, she still conceded, wrinkling her nose at Alastor as she left with the waiting capos.

“I’d ask you to do that shadow thing to get us back,” Angel said, starting down the sidewalk in the direction of the hotel, “but I’m pretty sure it’d make me puke. So I guess we’re walkin’.”

“Normally I would say it’s good to get some fresh air, but I’m not sure that applies to downtown New York,” Alastor noted, pleased to finally have the boss’s attention to himself again. The boy was a social butterfly and, in group settings, always had someone else to talk to, so it seemed the only time they could talk properly was when it was just the two of them. “Just try not to stumble into traffic, would you? I’d hate to ‘make a scene’ trying to rescue you.”

“Hardy-fuckin’-har.” Angel rolled his eyes. “I ain’t _that_ drunk. But if you’re so worried…” He stepped a little closer and slipped his arm through Alastor’s to hold onto him as they walked, the same as he had on the first night they met. And, the same as the first time, it still made Alastor’s heart quicken. They received an odd look or two from others passing by, but he hardly noticed.

It was only a few blocks from the Eclipse Lounge to the hotel, or Giardino Central, as Angel sometimes called it. Alastor spent the time alternating between enjoying Angel’s nearness and debating whether he should bring up the altercation with Enrico. It wasn’t a pleasant topic, but it also couldn’t be ignored forever. He wound up deciding to let the boss bring it up when he was ready; until then, Alastor would keep his mouth shut.

“So, seein’ as I’m sloshed,” Angel said casually as they strolled into the lobby, “you’re gonna do the gentleman thing and make sure I get to my room safe, right?”

While Alastor had never thought of himself as a gentleman by any means, he recognized that it wasn’t really a question. “Better that than have you pass out in the hall halfway.”

They took the elevator up to floor 15. During the ride, Angel’s hand slid slowly down Alastor’s arm to reach his, fingers lacing through the Radio Demon’s while he ‘innocently’ pressed closer. When they stepped out of the elevator, Angel was practically leading him by his hand, and he hardly had the capacity to argue, as his mind was busily racing trying to figure out how to handle the situation if it went where he was expecting.

As they reached his suite, the boss turned to face Alastor, leaning his back against the door. “What’re you plannin’ to do after this? I know ya don’t sleep, and it’s not like you’re gonna go back out. So whaddaya do with yourself?”

“You might be surprised how many ways there are to entertain oneself in a hotel filled with hundreds of mortals and demons alike. There’s always something interesting to be found if you’re willing to look.”

“Uh-huh.” Leaning forward a bit, Angel took both his hands to pull him closer. The spark in his eyes and the silk in his voice said he had only one goal at the moment. “What if I said I had a better idea to keep you entertained?”

Alastor gulped reflexively. “I would be…curious as to what you had in mind.”

“Lemme give you a hint.” Grasping his lapels, Angel dragged him down into a firm kiss. He froze for a split-second, indecisive, before his instincts and desires took over altogether.

His arms snaked around the boy’s slender waist to keep him close, and he easily licked his way into Angel’s mouth, eager to touch and taste, to devour everything that was offered. Angel let out a high-pitched whimper of shock at his enthusiasm but held on tighter and tried to match it. Listening to the boy whine and moan around his tongue was almost too much excitement for the Radio Demon to handle, but eventually, Angel had to break away for a deep breath.

“Shit,” he panted, fingers still tightly clenched on Alastor’s coat. “And here I was…startin’ to think you didn’t want me.”

“I do,” Alastor confessed quietly, and Angel shivered in his arms.

“Then why dontcha come inside? And we’ll see if you can _handle_ me.”

Despite his every instinct screaming at him to say yes, despite the fact that—for the first time in six weeks—he was finally breathing clearly again, he forced himself to take a step back. “I can’t.”

“Can’t…what?”

“Take you to bed. I’m sorry. You’ve been drinking, and if there’s any chance you might regret it later—”

“I won’t,” Angel insisted. “I told ya, I ain’t that drunk, and besides, I wanted this way before we started drinkin’.” He must have seen that Alastor was genuinely uncomfortable with the idea, as he sighed and changed tacks. Lifting the Radio Demon’s hand to his cheek and nuzzling against it, he instead suggested, “Okay, even if ya don’t wanna have sex”— _I do! My interest or lack thereof is not the issue here!_ —“will you just…stay? I mean, actually, literally sleep with me?”

Well. He couldn’t see much harm in _that_ , he supposed. He would hate to give the impression that he didn’t want to be close to Angel; there was little else in the world he wanted more. As long as he could maintain his self-control and not allow the boy to (once again) wear down his resistance, it should be fine.

He nodded, and Angel rewarded him with a bright smile. He unlocked the door and led Alastor inside, then asked him to wait in the living room for a minute. Once he disappeared into his room and shut the door behind him, Alastor’s chest seized all at once, forcing him to rush to the spare bedroom, which appeared untouched, and cough out his unexpressed feelings into a trash bin. No matter how many times it happened, it always seemed to hurt as much as the first, and the few seconds of being unable to breathe always panicked him all over again.

 _What am I supposed to do?_ He wasn’t sure whom he was addressing. His lungs, maybe. _I can’t sleep with him while he’s drunk, and now is really not the time for a full-blown pour-your-heart-out confession._ Whatever mercy he was hoping for from his condition wasn’t forthcoming, as he needed another moment to spit out the last few petals, even noticing what might have been rosebuds among them. Lovely. Wiping his mouth, he tied up the trash bag and prayed (figuratively speaking) that housekeeping would take care of it soon.

He left the room in time for Angel’s bedroom door to swing open, revealing a scantily-clad Angel that made his heart skip yet again. He could only hope this wasn’t just a ploy to seduce him, as he wasn’t sure how well he could resist seduction at the moment. Especially after that kiss. Joining Angel in his room, he slipped off his vest to set it aside, then stepped out of his shoes, removed his tie, and unbuttoned his collar. Angel had already crawled into the king size bed, which made his thin frame look even smaller, and he pouted when he saw that Alastor wasn’t undressing any further.

“You really sleep like that?”

“We’ve established I don’t sleep much, cher,” the demon pointed out, joining him in bed. The boy wasted no time in snuggling up to his side, the softness of his body easily illustrating that he wasn’t wearing much under his long nightshirt. Alastor took a deep breath to center his thoughts on something other than how nice Angel’s body felt against his. “Ahem. Good night.” He gestured distractedly at the lights, and they snapped out at once.

“Mm-hm.” The boy’s fingers curled on the fabric of Alastor’s shirt as if to keep him from leaving. The room was quiet, other than the ambient sounds of the city far below, and Alastor waited a few minutes for his charge to fully relax and sleep.

He didn’t. Instead, he spoke softly. “Al?”

“Hm?”

“Will you…kiss me again?”

“Angel—”

“I ain’t askin’ for anything else,” the boy assured him quickly. “I’m not tryna trick ya into sex or somethin’. I just. It was really nice a minute ago, and…I want more.”

Did he have to phrase it that way? Did his voice have to be so achingly sweet? As if this weren’t difficult enough already. “You were serious when you said you wanted it before you started drinking?” he asked quietly, turning onto his side to face Angel and resting a hand tentatively on his hip.

The boy chuckled. “I’ve wanted it for weeks,” he whispered against Alastor’s lips, and a chill ran down the Radio Demon’s spine. Willing himself to stay in control, he took the invitation for another kiss. As before, Angel opened to him without argument, allowing him freedom to explore as he liked. The boy’s hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders, while Alastor’s full attention was on enjoying the sweetness of his mouth.

For maybe twenty minutes, maybe longer, they remained wrapped up in one another, lips moving together, tongues intertwined, Angel pressing closer still to drape his leg over Alastor’s. The demon let his hand slide down to rest on Angel’s bare thigh and told himself firmly that this was as far as he would go, that the pleasure of being so close and being desired should be enough to satisfy him. It _wasn’t_ , of course, as there was no possible way he could get ‘enough’ of Angel’s attention—but his willpower managed to hold, and when Angel pulled away from him, he didn’t protest.

The boy’s head nuzzled into his shoulder, breath falling against Alastor’s neck as he muttered, “G’night.”

“Good night, cher.”

This time, it wasn’t long before Angel’s body softened against his, relaxing further as he slipped from consciousness. It was true that Alastor didn’t sleep often, and this night was no exception. Why waste time sleeping when he finally had his love in his arms?

This was a very delicate position to be in, he knew. There were a million ways it could go horribly wrong, a million ways it could go horribly right, and he was sure to drive himself mad by trying to analyze each one. Instead, he resolved to enjoy this moment for what it was and hope that Angel still felt the same in the morning.

A much less complicated but equally concerning matter forced its way back into his mind: their run-in with Enrico. _This conversation ain’t finished_ , he’d said. That was a threat if Alastor had ever heard one. Now that he knew, more or less, what had become of Angel, he was sure to be plotting some way of ruining it for him and bringing him back under the Dellarosa family’s control. Well, Alastor simply wouldn’t have that. Enrico might be intelligent, he might be strategic, he might be powerful, but the bottom line was that his spite was no match for Alastor’s affection or Angel’s passion.

Still, the sooner they neutralized him, the better.


	7. One Can Only Dodge So Many Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor throws Alastor's morning off-track, and he's forced to discuss some personal matters with a professional colleague. _Well, it was bound to come out eventually._

In the morning, Alastor fought with himself over whether he should leave before Angel woke but decided that doing so would probably upset him. Besides, this was the closest he’d felt to 100% healthy in some time, so he supposed he might as well enjoy it as long as possible before they had to separate again and the tension returned to his chest. He remained exactly where he was until Angel eventually stirred, realized he was there, and promptly pinned him to the bed with another firm kiss.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, not allowing a moment for Alastor to answer before kissing him again, crawling closer to kneel over him on all fours, rather more predatory than expected and certainly more energetic. When the phone rang across the room, he broke away for a moment to look in that direction.

“Ahem. Should you…get that?” Alastor managed through the haze of pleasure clouding his mind. Angel’s aggressive kisses had sort of blindsided him, and he was now having trouble regaining his footing. His hands absently came to rest on Angel’s thighs on either side of him, and the boy looked down at him with a playful smile.

“It can wait.” Another kiss, and his hips rested against Alastor’s, sending a jolt through the demon’s body. He was forcibly reminded of how little Angel was wearing—a pajama top that fell just past his hips and not much else—and started to get lightheaded from all this sudden provocation. Some part of him felt he should argue, should point out that this was all happening very quickly and maybe Angel should take a moment to fully wake up before jumping into…well, whatever it was he was after. But between the boy’s sweet voice moaning from his kisses and his sleep-warmed body so close, the words simply wouldn’t come out. His hands slid upward subconsciously to grasp Angel’s hips, and when they deliberately ground down against his own, he bit the boy’s lip by accident.

“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, but Angel was smiling.

“Whatsamatter, Al?” he purred, licking a smear of blood off his injured lip, running his fingertips very lightly down Alastor’s neck and collarbone to make him shiver. “Too much for ya? Who woulda thought the big bad Radio Demon would get all nervous just from a little teasing?”

 _Oh, he is dangerous._ Alastor was very familiar with torture, but never this particular brand. He had almost no sexual experience at all, in fact, and certainly none that was recent. It had never ranked highly on his list of priorities or preferred pastimes. That said, Angel was, as usual, an exception. More than anything, Alastor wanted to please him, and whatever that entailed, he was up for it. Eager for it, he might even say.

“I’m not drunk anymore,” the boy noted, leaning down to speak between kisses on Alastor’s neck and slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “A little hungover, but I bet you can take my mind off it. The way you were kissin’ me last night, you sure seemed interested. So what’s stoppin’ ya?” He made a very compelling point.

“Chéri, I—” Alastor tensed and gripped harder at Angel’s hips as they ground roughly into his again. Possibly even more electrifying than the feeling itself was the low moan Angel let out, the knowledge that he must be enjoying this too. Before Alastor could gather his wits and try to speak again, the moment was disrupted by a knock at the suite’s front door.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Angel groaned miserably, forcing himself out of Alastor’s lap and off the bed. The Radio Demon remained where he was, very still and sort of dazed, as the boss grabbed a robe from the closet and headed for the door. “Venture, I swear to—”

“Angelino!” a familiar voice squealed when he opened the door, and Alastor’s mind vaguely registered who his visitor must be.

“I tried to tell her you would be down soon,” Venture said, calm as ever, “but she insisted on seeing you right away.”

“Molls, holy shit!” Angel’s voice pitched upward with delight, and Alastor was forced to accept that whatever had been going on between them before Molly’s arrival, it wasn’t likely to continue now. Part of him was grateful for the interruption. Another part was absolutely murderous. Regardless, he dragged both parts out of bed and went out to join the others in the living room.

It wasn’t until Venture’s eyes fell on him and a wicked smirk curled her lips that he finally realized how this must look—him, coming out of Angel’s bedroom after having escorted him back the night before, hair mussed, shirt half-buttoned, possibly still a bit flushed from Angel’s surprise attack. At any other time, he would have righted his entire appearance with a wave of his hand, but Molly was there, and she had clearly already seen him. So instead, he hastened to make himself presentable the old-fashioned way, buttoning his shirt, straightening his cuffs, fumbling very slightly from nerves.

“Alastor,” Venture purred with no small amount of relish. “Fancy seeing you here. I suppose that explains why the boss was late getting downstairs.”

Before Alastor could argue that this was not what it looked like, Angel rolled his eyes and answered, “Venn, shut the hell up. You can head back downstairs and I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Good. This show isn’t going to run itself, you know.” She shot Alastor a look that said they would be talking about this later, then left for the elevators.

“Um,” Molly said, not taking her eyes off Alastor as she came in and Angel shut the door behind her.

“Oh, Molls, this is Alastor,” Angel said, putting an arm around her shoulders. With an impish smile, he added innocently, “He, uh, works under me around here. Al, my sister, Molly.”

“Charmed,” Alastor said, ignoring the look Angel was giving him and instead offering his hand to Molly. She was too polite not to accept it, though she did seem awfully wary of Alastor. “I’ve heard a lot, so it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” she said with a weak smile before turning to Angel again and lowering her voice as if that might keep Alastor from hearing her. “Could we talk? Just us?”

“Sure. Al, you wanna go make sure Venn’s not stagin’ some kinda coup downstairs?” As the twins went to sit together on the couch, Alastor disappeared into Angel’s room to dress himself, trying and failing to shrug off the embarrassment of having been caught in such a compromising position with the boss. After excusing himself from the suite, he headed for the elevators—but Angel chased after him.

“Hang on,” he called, scampering across the carpeted hall to practically throw himself into Alastor’s arms and kiss him again. When he drew away, he held a finger up to Alastor’s nose and told him with mock severity, “We’re finishin’ that conversation tonight, damn it.”

“I look forward to it, cher.” He watched Angel walk back to his room, then finally forced himself down to the third floor to face the music with Venture. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation by any means, but at least it would give him an opportunity to process his feelings on the matter himself.

When he reached Angel’s office, Venture was in discussion with one of the family’s soldiers—but upon seeing Alastor arrive, she grinned and dismissed the underling without another word. “Well, well, well,” she teased, watching the Radio Demon closely. “Now I know why we had that chat about ‘distance’ yesterday, as you’re obviously getting very close with our young don.”

“I’m contracted to someday claim his soul; it’s only sensible that I keep him close,” Alastor answered evenly. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Don’t you often become ‘close’ with your charges?”

“Oh no, dear, we aren’t talking about my patterns at the moment. We’re talking about yours, and how this particular contract clearly falls far outside them.” She remained where she stood, just behind Angel’s desk, and watched him pace about the room. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No.” _Neither literally nor euphemistically._ “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Then what were you doing in his room?” she asked dubiously.

“Nothing.” _Thanks to you._ “He asked me to stay with him last night, so I did.”

“But even that’s notable. You wouldn’t bother if you didn’t have some investment in his feelings. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to recognize it. You~ care about him. Don’t you?” Venture raised her head, seeming pleased with what she’d discovered. Alastor’s silence was answer enough. “Then he must be more special than I realized. And did that happen before or after the contract?”

“How is that relevant?”

“So before. You approached him _because_ of your interest in him. How very interesting.” Just as Alastor knew how commonly she developed feelings for her human charges, she knew how rarely he developed attachments to anyone. “I should’ve known as soon as you brought me here. You’ve put more effort into this operation than any other project I’ve seen you take on.”

“Yes, yes, I know, this all ranges far beyond my typical modus operandi,” he agreed, his tone lighthearted despite fearing what consequences this revelation might have. “Believe me, I’ve been aware of it since day one, but I’m doing my best to adjust to the role I’ve been cast. Besides, you’ve been enjoying yourself, haven’t you? Angel keeps you on your toes, and I can only imagine how refreshing a change it must be to work with a reliable group rather than trying to corral your associates from all over Hell.”

She listened to his little spiel with an almost sympathetic smile. “Are you afraid I’m going to leave now that I know this is personal for you?”

Alastor was loath to admit being afraid of anything, and he especially disliked the idea that he or the Giardinos might _need_ Venture there by any means. Even if she did leave, he was sure he could still pull this off on his own—but her presence made it significantly easier, and he knew well that the way to any Overlord’s heart was through their ego.

With an exaggerated sigh, he confessed, “I’m afraid you know much more than I do about the sort of business Angel wants to do. _If_ we were to lose you, we would have to find someone else to take your place, and it would surely be a downgrade.”

“I’m not quite sure if you’re complimenting me or threatening to replace me,” she laughed and waved the matter aside with an airy gesture. “But that’s all academic, because I don’t have any plans to leave. Why should I? I consider it a privilege, not only getting a front-row seat to whatever’s going to play out between you two, but participating in the performance myself. I only wish you would’ve told me about this sooner. I’d be making more of an effort on his behalf.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you suggesting you’ve been holding back in your duties?”

“I’m suggesting I’ve been doing what Angel’s asked of me, and it hasn’t yet required my full repertoire of skills. If I’d known how invested you were in seeing him succeed, I might have been trying harder.” With an offhanded salute in his direction, she retreated to her desk and sat, head down, attention focused on whatever business transactions they had in the works at the time.

Well, the conversation could have gone worse. Alastor still wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t try to use this against him at some point, but at least she hadn’t ferreted out the _whole_ truth. Now that she was no longer grilling him, he was left to wonder what Angel and Molly were talking about upstairs. Yes, he could check if he so chose, but he wanted to respect Angel’s privacy; if the boss wanted to share it with him later, that would be his choice.

He wasn’t sure why he was so worried in the first place. Molly was the absolute least dangerous member of the Dellarosa family, so her presence really shouldn’t concern him. Yet he remained uneasy, too hung up on how convenient it was that she’d appeared the very morning after their dispute with Enrico.


	8. A Matter of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is wary of Angel's new 'family' and their intentions. But are her suspicions based on observation or misinformation? _One has to wonder where she's getting these ideas._

While Alastor sat aside and waited for Angel to join them, Venture was a veritable flurry of action, sorting through files, making calls, meeting with family members and giving orders. Granted, they had only been working together for the past month or so, but the change in her performance was shocking nevertheless. _‘Trying harder,’ indeed!_

An hour or so after Alastor had entered the office, the doors swept open again to reveal a properly-dressed and put-together Angel with Molly in tow. She observed the space with wide eyes as she followed him inside and he explained proudly, “So this is my office. You met my consigliere already. Everything goin’ okay down here, Venn?”

While she might have normally responded with a clever quip or a tongue-in-cheek ‘no thanks to you,’ she instead gave him a curt nod, only looking up from her work briefly. “I’m drafting a contract for Cherri’s Dust dealer. I’ll need you to look over it by the end of the day so I can finalize that deal. The Cortezes got back to us with an offer this morning too, so let me know when you’re ready to discuss it.” And back she went to writing up the contract.

“Uh, yeah, will do.” Angel gave Alastor a confused look, as if to ask _What’s up with her?_ but the Radio Demon could only shrug. It wasn’t as if he could explain to Angel the conversation they’d had earlier and the real reason for her increase in productivity. The boss frowned and turned back to Molly. “Eh, she’s usually more fun than that”—he shot her a look to see if his jab had provoked a response, but there was none—“but I guess she’s…busy today. Hey, Al, I’m givin’ Molls a tour around the place. Wanna come with?”

“Happy to,” Alastor agreed, much preferring an upbeat Angel to the very concentrated Venture. He joined Molly in following the boss downstairs to the ground floor and couldn’t help feeling that even though Angel was leading her around the building and pointing out all its various features, she was watching Alastor warily the entire time. Had he done something to offend her? Was his first impression in Angel’s room enough to make her assume he was up to no good? He could only hope his smile would make him seem less threatening—though he was aware it often had the opposite effect.

“And look, you’re gonna like this,” Angel was saying, holding Molly’s hand as they came back to the lobby and he led the way up the stairs to the mezzanine and lounge area. In addition to the bar, there was a sprawling seating area with armchairs and loveseats, along with a more unusual addition, which Angel had insisted was necessary: a grand piano where, every night, one of their host of demons would provide live music for the guests. And, just as he’d predicted, Molly lit up at the sight.

“Ooh, it’s gorgeous,” she cooed, hurrying across the room to seat herself at the bench and run her hand along the cover over the keys. As Angel and Alastor joined her, she looked up at her brother with eyes sparkling in excitement. “Can I…?”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist,” he laughed, leaning against the side of the piano. “Knock yourself out.”

She lifted the cover, quickly found her fingering, and started to play with ease, evidently from memory. Angel went to stand over her shoulder and watch her hands move, so Alastor joined at his other side. He didn’t recognize the tune, but it was lovely regardless, and Molly played without a single falter or sour note. He somehow felt a bit more respect for her, seeing how focused and skilled she was at what he knew for a fact was a difficult instrument to master. For a moment, he entertained the idea of joining her—but it seemed a step too far. Maybe he would demonstrate his skills at another time.

“She’s good,” he noted honestly.

“Always has been,” Angel agreed with the slightest smile on his lips. It wasn’t the cocky grin he usually wore, all smug, pushy bravado; it was softer, more genuine, and Alastor finally realized how much it had been upsetting him to be separated from his twin.

That was only natural, all things considered. She was always the one to support him through their father’s violent outbursts, the only one in the Dellarosa household he could confide in and look to for understanding. Having that so suddenly removed from his life to be replaced by an army of demons who hardly knew him… Alastor could only imagine how it must feel. He watched as Angel sat at her side, looking more relaxed than ever, and he realized this was a problem.

Angel missed his sister. He was happier for her presence. Meaning that when she left to return to the Dellarosas, when she became ‘the enemy’ again, he would be utterly miserable. They couldn’t have that. Not only would it be a detriment to Angel’s overall mood, but it could interfere with his goal of taking down the Dellarosa family in the long run. Something would have to be done.

As Molly finished her song to light applause from the few guests in the area, she blushed and smiled bashfully. “Still got it,” Angel told her with a grin.

“Never lost it,” she teased back. “Hope I didn’t bother anyone.”

“Please, they should be thankin’ you,” he said, waving off her concerns. “Besides, I own the place; we can do what we want.”

“I still don’t get how you pulled it off. I mean, I saw this place a couple months ago, and it was a wreck!” Her eyes lingered on the glittering chandelier above them. “And I thought the owners were gonna demo it or somethin’. How’d you get ‘em to hand it over?”

“Eh, I had some help from my _sottocapo_ here.” Angel nodded in Alastor’s direction. “This guy might not look like it, but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeves ya wouldn’t expect. He bought the place for a song and then gave it to me as a”—he tossed Alastor a smarmy smirk over his shoulder—“ _token of his affection_. Didn’t ya, honey?”

_You have no idea._

“You’re absolutely right, cher. You might also call it an investment.” There was something gratifying in the knowledge that Angel would so readily flirt with him around others, including his sister, even if it was mostly to tease him. It felt legitimizing in a way, as if they did actually have some sort of relationship already. Of course, Alastor tried to take that satisfaction with a grain of salt, as the boss didn’t hesitate to flirt with anyone, but it still felt different when addressed at him. More specific, less flippant.

“Affection, huh?” Molly said, eyeing Alastor skeptically.

“Oh, come on, don’t make that face.” Angel nudged his shoulder into hers. “Not _every_ guy I get with is a complete asshole.”

‘Get with’? That was a conveniently vague description of what was going on between the two of them.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Molly answered, pursing her lips. “Anyway, this is all nice, but I wanna know where the _real_ business goes on. I know you and your consigliere run things upstairs, but what about the _soldatos_? What about the _caporegimes_? It can’t be just the few of you.”

“They stay in the rooms all over; it ain’t the same as Pop’s place where everybody’s separated. I got capos on floor twelve and floor two. I got soldatos on floor ten and floor five. They’re just around.”

“But.” Molly’s face twisted into a pretty frown of confusion. “How do you keep everyone in line like that?”

“Oh, that’s not an issue,” Alastor answered before realizing he might be stepping on Angel’s toes. Still, the boss gestured for him to go on, so he continued, “Every member of our family has known since their arrival that Angel is the one in charge. We’ve only been in business a short time, but every day he makes it clearer that he knows what he’s doing and is someone to be trusted. I know without doubt that our people see that and respect it.” Angel beamed at his compliments, and he meant every word.

“It’s pretty impressive to have their loyalty after just a month or so,” Molly noted. “How many’d you say there are?”

“Like two hundred, give or take.”

She bit her lip, the gesture eerily reminiscent of Angel’s habit of doing the same. But why should she be nervous at the moment? “That’s way more than Papa’s got,” she said with a weak laugh.

“Yeah, that was kinda the point,” Angel agreed with a satisfied smirk. This was another particular he had stipulated when the Giardinos first began. “Gonna be a lot easier runnin’ him outta business when we can prove we got better forces.”

The young woman drew into herself slightly, legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded delicately in her lap. “You’re really serious about that?” she asked gently.

“C’mon, Molls.” The boss let out a sigh and pushed to his feet. “Don’t get all weepy about it. I know ya don’t like thinkin’ about it, but you can’t act like he doesn’t deserve some kinda payback for all the shit he’s put me through. I ain’t askin’ ya to help me do it, but ya ain’t gonna stop me either.”

“No, I know,” Molly said hastily, her hands clasping tighter as she looked up at him with what seemed more like concern than irritation. “I’m sorry, _caro_. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m not happy for you. I am. I’ve just been worried. You’ve been gone all this time, and nobody knew what you were up to. I’ve never been away from you that long before, especially not knowin’ why. It was scary.”

Angel ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back from his eyes, visibly fighting guilt over his sister’s discomfort. “Yeah, I get it. Look, why don’t we take a step back from the whole business thing for a minute?” He paused to check his watch. “I’ll take you to lunch or somethin’ and we can just talk like normal for a while. Okay?”

She smiled sheepishly. “I’d like that, Angelino.”

“C’mon, then. Lemme show ya around my part of town a little.” The two started toward the stairs, but he paused when he realized Alastor wasn’t following. “You comin’, Al?”

It was difficult to miss the distinct pout on Molly’s face as she turned to continue on her way as if she hadn’t noticed Angel stopping. Difficult to misinterpret her attitude toward Alastor. “Actually, I think I have some work to get done here,” he said apologetically.

“Work?” Angel scoffed. “Since when d’you have work? I don’t remember givin’ ya anything to do lately.”

“Then I’ll find something to keep myself occupied.” Lowering his voice slightly, he nodded toward Molly. “I think your sister would prefer to spend time with you alone. Not that I can blame her.”

“Well. What if I need you or somethin’?” Angel insisted, arms crossed, pouting a bit himself.

“Then call me, and I’ll come to you.”

The boss let out a frustrated huff. “But I wanted you two—”

“Angel?” Molly called, standing by the stairs. Nothing in her voice was demanding or whiny, nothing in her smile signaling impatience. “I thought we were leavin’.”

“Just a minute,” he answered, waving a hand at her, obviously still not satisfied with where he and Alastor were leaving off.

“If it’s going to bother you, I’ll come along, cher. I could also follow discreetly in case you run into any trouble. It’s up to you.”

The boss let out a sigh and shrugged. “Nah, forget it. I been away all this time; least I can give her is an hour or two for just us. I’ll see ya when we get back.” His eyes flickered down to Alastor’s lips, and he started to lean closer, then thought better of it and backed away, giving a weak half-smile as he went to meet his twin at the stairs. As they left together, that smile quickly turned more genuine, and Alastor’s chest constricted with unwarranted jealousy.

— — —

Luckily, he wasn’t allowed much time to dwell on whatever angst Angel’s outing with Molly had instilled. Looking for something to do with himself, as promised, he went back up to the third floor and the office, where he found Venture in a meeting with a group of three capos. Her eyes darted toward the door as he entered, then she went on with her conversation.

“I don’t want excuses, gentlemen: I want answers,” she said plainly. “This isn’t grounds for an execution or even an expulsion, but when the boss hears about it, he’s not going to be happy, and he’ll want the name of whoever’s responsible. You’re going to get me that name. Understood?” All three nodded in silence, and she dismissed them with a flick of her hand, turning her attention to Alastor instead. “Where’s Angel?” The usual languid self-assurance in her voice had been replaced with a certain no-nonsense quality to match her sudden severe attitude shift.

“He took Molly to lunch. He said they should be back in an hour or two,” the Radio Demon explained, wandering over to her corner of the room to look over her desk, which was far busier than usual just as she was.

Venture let out a clipped sigh. “Of course he did. First the distraction with you this morning, now a personal visit—with one of our rivals, no less. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll be able to spare some attention for the business too. Our don is quite a popular man,” she grumbled, even her writing fevered and frustrated as she scribbled down some note or another and scanned over the many stacks of papers on her desk to categorize it.

“Ahem. Is there anything _I_ might do to help?” Alastor suggested, almost wishing she would take back her vow to so thoroughly devote herself to the Giardinos’ success; she was so much less fun this way.

“Oh, do you work here?” she chuckled, finally raising her eyes to meet his. That was the same sentiment Angel had expressed, and he still didn’t care for the suggestion that he wasn’t pulling his weight.

“You should know better than anyone, my friend, that I’m every bit as capable a man as one could find in these halls,” he answered indignantly, gesturing toward the rest of the hotel. “Just you tell me what needs doing and I’ll see that it gets done.”

“Is that so?”

It seemed as if Venture took those words as more a challenge than an assurance. Somehow, she had a never-ending list of errands to be run, ranging from within the hotel itself to a few blocks down the way to the opposite end of Manhattan. Alastor, ever a man of his word and always up for a challenge, fulfilled every directive she issued, from pressing their lessees for unpaid ‘taxes’ to seeking out some poor fool who had borrowed money from the family and then gone awol.

Over the course of his trials—which had by then become a matter of principle—he must have lost track of time; he returned to the hotel with a bundle of dossiers Venture had sent him practically all the way to the Bronx for, but stopped outside the office when he found Molly waiting there on her own.

“Nice to see you again, but I feel you’re missing something. Have you lost Angel?” He tried to joke, but her smile was sympathetic at best.

“He’s inside,” she said, nodding toward the door. “His consigliere really wanted to go over this deal they’re doin’ with the Cortezes, so…maybe not the best time to go in.”

“I see.” He wondered how Angel was dealing with Venture’s paradigm shift.

“Our family doesn’t really deal with the Cortezes,” Molly mused, idly twirling a pale blond curl around and around her finger. “Papa says they got too much Spanish in ‘em. ‘No sense of urgency.’”

“As I understand it, Angel doesn’t subscribe to many of your father’s more traditional ideals,” Alastor answered cautiously.

“Yeah. That was never his bag, I guess.” Her eyes wandered to him, inspecting everything from his hairdo to his fashion sense to the spectacles perched on his nose. “He talks about you an awful lot.”

He could only hope his smile didn’t look too self-satisfied. “That makes sense. We work together closely, so he spends a lot of time around me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not really the way ya talk about a coworker. He doesn’t talk about his consigliere like that. Plus I saw how ‘close’ you two were this morning.” Some of the sweetness had faded from her voice since her earlier conversation with Angel.

“May I ask why that bothers you?” _What about being involved with Angel is inherently a sin?_

“It doesn’t,” she said unconvincingly. “Just makes me a little nervous how he’s trustin’ all these people he barely knows like they’re a real family.” There was nothing catty or snide in her tone; she genuinely just sounded worried.

“With all due respect,” Alastor started at length, “his ‘real’ family, present company excluded, have proven they aren’t all worth trusting.”

For the first time, he saw a distinct scowl crease her face. “What d’you know about it?”

“Only what Angel’s told me. I wouldn’t try to explain your own family to you, but my point is that this change of scenery—and company—has done him nothing but good.” He tried to be as gentle and unobtrusive as possible in noting all this, to make his point without making Molly feel attacked. Not an effort he would make for just anyone. “Doesn’t he seem happier to you?”

“I guess,” she mumbled, winding her hair tighter around her fingers. “But it’s not right, him bein’ away from home. It’s not where he belongs. Family’s supposed to stick together, especially families like ours.” There was a hint of nervous panic sneaking into her tone, as if these concerns had been building up all day but she’d been afraid to voice them to Angel. “What if somethin’ happens? What if he needs help and we’re not there? What if he gets hurt and I’m not around to take care of him?”

In some ways, her concern for Angel resembled his own more than, say, Cherri’s. She wasn’t aggressive or controlling. She didn’t act as if she knew what was best for her brother better than he did himself. She simply recognized that the world—especially the world her family lived in—was a dangerous one and wanted to be present to see him through it. Because she loved him.

That was a sentiment Alastor understood.

“You don’t have to worry about all that, my dear. I can promise you, like I’ve promised Angel: I won’t let him come to harm. Whatever it takes, for as long as I’m breathing, I’m going to keep him safe.” Alastor was almost surprised at the fervor with which he made these promises, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. The passion that burned in Angel was the sort that spread to anyone he touched.

“But. But if…” She was biting her lip again, her shoulders tense as she struggled to accept what she was hearing.

“I understand your concern. Truly. But please believe me when I say that here, among this group and in this role, _is_ where he belongs.”

Molly took a slow breath, then gave a small nod. “I think you might be right.” She covered her eyes with one hand in what at first looked like a sign of frustration. Then her shoulders trembled slightly, her breath came out in a shuddering sigh, and Alastor realized with horror that she was crying. A bolt of panic shot through him as he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong and how on Earth he could fix it. This was the last thing he’d wanted!

“I. Er. I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean—”

As luck would have it, this was the point at which Angel exited the office. He paused for a split-second, saw his sister in tears as Alastor hesitantly reached out to her, and rushed over in alarm to pull her close. “Hey, what’s wrong, _passerotta_? What happened?” Shooting a defensive glare at Alastor, he hissed, “What’d you do?”

While the demon was at a loss, unable to explain any part of the turn this conversation had just taken, Molly was shaking her head, trying to speak past her tears. “No, no. It’s not him, caro,” she managed, burying her face against Angel’s shoulder. “It’s me. I’m the one who… I-I was so worried about you, and he said you weren’t safe here—”

“Alastor?” Angel asked, confused, but she shook her head again.

“Papa.”


	9. Can't Grow Flowers Without Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel is reminded how little his father cares about his (or Molly's) feelings, and he leaves Molly with a choice to make. Later, Angel finally gets back what was stolen from him earlier in the day, and Alastor has a number of very new experiences. _How hard--er, difficult can it be, really?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have already noticed: this story's rating has changed! Make of that what you will and enjoy this _very long _chapter.__

There was silence for a moment as Angel processed what his sister was saying. Eventually, he pulled away to look her in the eye. “Molls, what’s goin’ on?”

She took a step back, shaking, trying in vain to wipe the smudged mascara from beneath her eyes. “Papa told me this morning about seein’ you at the lounge last night,” she confessed, starting to fidget with her curls again. “He said you had all these strangers with ya, you weren’t actin’ like yourself, so he…he asked me to come check on you.”

“For what?” Angel demanded, fighting between his frustration at being deceived and his patience with his sister.

“To find out what I could about what’s goin’ on here. He made it sound like you were in trouble and these people were usin’ you. Said I had to remind you where you belong and bring you home.”

“This _is_ my home now.” When his sister reached for him, he took a step back to stay out of her grasp, betrayal written all over his face. “I knew you were actin’ weird while we were out. I knew you were askin’ too many questions. Goddamn it, Molly!”

“I’m sorry!” Molly insisted, her tears starting up again. “I was worried about you, caro! You were gone all that time, I was a nervous wreck, then Papa showed up and said he knew where to find you. How could I not come?”

“That’s exactly why he sent you,” Angel growled, arms crossed tightly, avoiding his twin’s eyes at all costs. “Cuz he knew you wouldn’t say no and he knew I’d talk to you. Sonofabitch. Usin’ his own fuckin’ daughter for recon.”

“And against his own son,” Alastor added.

“Fuck that; I ain’t his kid anymore,” the boy snapped back. “The Dellarosas ain’t shit to me but a roadblock.” At the sound of Molly’s muffled sob, he let out a sigh. “Y’know I don’t mean you, Mollina. But there was no way you could stay outta this forever. So what d’you wanna do?”

“Whaddaya mean?” she asked, her body language still withdrawn and nervous as if Angel might throw her out at any moment.

“I mean, are you okay with bein’ ‘seen and not heard’ in Enrico’s family, or do you wanna stay and be part of mine?”

The shock of the suggestion halted the tears still shining in her wide eyes. “Stay,” she repeated, “like for good?”

“Yeah. Why not? Enrico doesn’t give a shit about anyone he can’t control,” the boss said, not incorrectly. “That’s all ‘family’ boils down to for him. People who do what the fuck he says. It’s bullshit, and you deserve better. Stay here with us, and I guarantee everyone in this building’ll respect you the same as me.”

He looked to Alastor, either for confirmation or to make it clear that ensuring this was one of his responsibilities, and the Radio Demon nodded in turn. As always, Angel’s decisions were surprising. Not only had he separated himself from Enrico’s family, but now he was trying to persuade another of his children to defect as well. And judging by the look on Molly’s face, she was tempted.

“I dunno, Angelino,” she mumbled. “I wanna be with you, sure, but wouldn’t that mean I couldn’t see anyone at home anymore? Not even Mama or Criss…?”

“Hey, I’m not about to tell you what ya can or can’t do,” Angel said with a shrug, but Alastor was beginning to feel that his dispassionate attitude was a bit put on. “I’m just sayin’ I don’t like us bein’ separated any more than you do, and I’m way more interested in havin’ you here as my sister than as…I dunno, an ‘asset.’” When she didn’t answer after a moment or two, he went on, “Listen, I still got a lotta work to get done, so you should probably head home. Just think about it, all right?”

“And Enrico?” Alastor asked. “He’ll expect some sort of report, I imagine.”

“I’m not gonna tell him anything that could hurt you. I swear.” Molly was a bit hesitant about offering a hug, but Angel allowed it despite whatever tension remained between them. “And I’ll come back to visit again soon. Just a regular visit, no funny stuff.” Peering over his shoulder at Alastor, she added something in Italian. Angel laughed as he responded in kind. Not for the first time, Alastor wondered whether he should try picking up the language himself for just such occasions as this.

Once Molly had disappeared into the elevator with another small wave, Angel let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Are you all right?” Alastor asked, possessed of an urge to pull the boy into his arms but unsure whether their current relationship allowed for things like that unprompted.

“I just can’t fuckin’ believe he sent her here to spy on me.” The boss took a deep breath, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Every time I think he can’t go any lower, he always turns around and proves me wrong. He might not even _let_ her come back.” He shook his head as if trying to fling those thoughts out of it. “It is what it is. At least I got to see her for a while today.” A surprisingly mature reaction coming from someone who had gotten used to his every whim being obeyed.

Trying to move on from the subject and to something more positive, Alastor instead asked, “Did you and Venture decide something regarding the Cortezes?”

“Ugh. No, not yet. Apparently, it got way more complicated since the last time we talked,” Angel sighed, running his fingers through his hair, simply shifting from one source of stress to another. “I barely got her to let me take a break to say bye to Molly. She put you to work too?” He nodded at the stack of envelopes in Alastor’s hands, which he had all but forgotten about.

“Oh. Well, I did tell you I’d find something to occupy my time while you were gone.”

“Yeah, but you mighta screwed up lettin’ her know how useful you can be. Now she’s never gonna give you a break.”

“Keep in mind, your orders outrank hers considerably. If there’s something else you’d like me to be doing…”

“I can think of a thing or two,” Angel answered with a playful grin. He started to reach for Alastor’s collar, as he often did when he wanted to pull him close, but once again, he stopped himself. “Uh, we should probably get back to it, though.”

Unsatisfied, Alastor impulsively caught his hand as he started toward the office, practically dragging him into an embrace. “That’s the second time today you’ve deliberately avoided touching me. Why is that?”

Angel wouldn’t look at him as he answered, “I dunno, I came on pretty strong this morning. Then earlier, you were actin’ like ya didn’t wanna be around me, so I thought maybe I freaked you out or somethin’.” He bit his lip so hard that, combined with the cut from earlier, it started to bleed again. Without thinking, Alastor leaned down the little that was necessary to lick the blood off his lips, enjoying the shiver that coursed through the boy’s body.

“Nothing could be further from the truth, cher. If anything, I’m impatient to have your attention all to myself again.”

Angel pressed closer to him, their lips met, and Alastor vaguely recognized the sound of a door opening, too absorbed in the kiss to pay attention to anything else. It wasn’t until they separated that Venture cleared her throat loudly, standing in the office doorway and looking pointedly away from them.

“I do hate to interrupt this riveting conversation you two are having,” she said, checking her watch, “but Angel, if I could have just an hour or two more of your time, we might get this Cortez deal finalized and in motion. Assuming that’s still something you’re interested in?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Angel sighed, pushing away from Alastor and raising his hands in defeat as he started to follow her back inside. Pausing at the door, he stopped Alastor with a hand splayed on his chest. “Hey, I want you to make sure Molly gets home okay. See what’s goin’ on with the Dellarosas too. Find out if they’ve got anything else in the works against us.”

“Consider it done.”

“Good. Then when you get back,” he added, lowering his voice slightly, “meet me upstairs and we’ll talk about whatever you find.” The wink he gave as he pulled the door shut behind him suggested there was a reason this conversation couldn’t happen in the office. Although he tried to fight it, to control it, Alastor had no choice but to quickly stride to the restroom for his first—though likely not last—real coughing fit of the day.

— — —

Recon on the Dellarosas was uneventful. Good thing, because Alastor’s mind was elsewhere the entire time. When Molly arrived home with her escort, naturally, Enrico tried to pump her for details about the Giardinos’ operation, but she remained vague and noncommittal about everything, playing up her natural unassuming innocence in a way that gave Enrico little to no usable information. _Attagirl._

Although he was obviously disappointed with her ‘report’ and irritated at the thought of Angel, he still managed not to snap at her and instead thanked her for her efforts before sending her away. It seemed everyone had a bit of a soft spot for Molly. It was clear from the fevered argument he then had with his own consigliere that the Giardinos had him a bit panicked. He didn’t know exactly what action Angel had already taken against him or where he should be focusing his efforts at fighting back, and the size of the new family made him nervous in itself.

Good news all around, really.

By the time Alastor decided he’d learned all he could and headed back to the hotel, the evening was edging toward night. Even knowing that he had an invitation, he still felt a need to knock before waltzing into Angel’s suite, and the boss called from inside for him to come in.

He found Angel in the bedroom, standing just inside his closet on the far wall and, apparently, changing for bed. “Hey,” he said with a glance over his shoulder, in the process of stripping off his waistcoat. “How’d it go? Learn about any big sabotage plans Enrico’s makin’?”

“He doesn’t seem to have any yet. He still knows too little about us to start formulating any effective countermeasures.” Alastor resolved to wait in the living room rather than standing there watching Angel undress. Taking a seat on the sofa, he continued, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that Molly kept her word not to rat us out. She spent twenty minutes talking about the ‘adorable little bistro’ you took her to for lunch. So if Enrico ends up in the area and has a craving for a Nicoise salad, he’ll know where to go.”

“Yeah, I knew she wasn’t gonna turn on us like that. She’s too good to screw over somebody she loves.”

“I don’t think she likes me much,” Alastor confessed after a moment’s hesitation. “She was looking at me sideways the entire time she was here, like she expected me to stab her in the back the moment she turned away.” For most people, that wouldn’t be an entirely unreasonable thing to expect from him—but not for someone so near and dear to Angel.

“Nah, it ain’t that,” Angel told him. “It’s about me more than you. I ain’t always had the best taste in men, so she’s used to the guys I date not treatin’ me right. She probably just figures you’re that same kinda guy.”

“Am I?” The thought made him sick to his stomach.

“Course not. First off, you’re not my boyfriend,” Angel pointed out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re…I dunno, somethin’ else. More like a business partner, I guess. And you sure as hell don’t treat me like they did.” Some morbid curiosity prompted Alastor to wonder exactly how many men Angel had ‘dated,’ but he knew that whatever the answer was, it would make him miserable with jealousy.

When he didn’t respond, Angel sighed and came out of the bedroom to meet him, having already removed his shirt and tie. The bandeau he wore underneath was visibly tight, most likely too small for him for the purpose of binding his chest as flat as possible. Alastor couldn’t help wondering if that was entirely healthy.

“Hey.” The boss knelt in front of him to meet his eyes. “I mean it. You ain’t like the other guys I been with before. Y’know how long”—he let out a dry laugh—“how long it’s been since _any_ man in my life gave a shit about what _I_ want? Then outta nowhere, there’s you, and it’s like your top priority. How’m I supposed to act like that doesn’t mean anything?” He asked that almost to himself as his eyes drifted away from Alastor’s. Wincing slightly, he shifted his shoulders and tugged at the straps of his bandeau, which were digging into his skin.

“I can’t imagine that’s very comfortable,” Alastor noted. It looked much like the sort of thing that was in style during his time among the living, a decade or two outdated now but suited to this purpose. “And you’ve been wearing it all day; I’m sure you’d like to take it off.”

“Uh, yeah.” Angel wet his lips, his eyes darting toward Alastor’s and then away again. “D’you…maybe wanna help me with that?”

The only reason Alastor hesitated was that he’d never done any such thing before. But how hard could it be, really? “If you like.” He scooted back on the couch, leaving room for Angel to sit between his legs, which he did so the hook-and-eye closures that lined a portion of his spine were accessible. _Simple enough._ The task was made a bit harder by how tight the thing was; it was hard to imagine how Angel got in and out of it by himself every day. Once it was unhooked, he slipped it off and took in a deep breath—then coughed slightly as he exhaled. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just this fuckin’ thing,” he said, tossing the bandeau into the corner of the couch, “crushin’ my ribs all day. I’m used to it.” Alastor’s gaze wandered across Angel’s shoulders and slowly down his back. As much as he (guiltily) wanted to enjoy seeing so much of Angel’s flawless skin, the moment was dampened slightly by the red marks still visible on his shoulders and along his ribs where the garment had dug into him. Drawing his shoulders back to stretch out the muscles in his chest, he let out a soft groan of pain.

“But even when you take it off, you’re clearly still sore.” Of course, seeing Angel in pain, Alastor’s first instinct was to suggest eliminating the cause—but he might suffer equally, in a different way, if he were to forego binding his chest. What was there to do, then? Hoping he wasn’t going too far, Alastor let his fingertips ghost down Angel’s spine. “Would touching you make it worse?”

“N-no.” The boy suppressed a shiver, his back arching slightly. “I mean, it’ll hurt, but I bet it’d help me get over it quicker. If you want.” Relieved that he could at least take some sort of helpful action, Alastor let his hands come to rest on Angel’s sides, just above his waist. The boy flinched slightly, so he made sure to take it slow, sliding his hands up, then back down and around to roam up his back instead. Angel’s hands were clenched into fists, his breathing slow and heavy in the still room, as Alastor’s hands reached his shoulders and gently eased them downward, allowing the rigid tension in his muscles to dissipate.

“Any better?” Alastor asked quietly, as if speaking too loudly might disrupt the moment, and Angel nodded without hesitation. When the demon’s thumbs pressed into his spine a bit harder, he let out a low moan and dropped his head.

“Right there,” he breathed, sending a chill through Alastor for reasons he couldn’t explain. Still, he obeyed, focusing his attention more on that spot while Angel hummed and moaned his approval. But those marks on his shoulders looked awfully irritated too. From this position, it was easy enough to lean down and let his lips brush reddened skin. His charge took a shuddering breath but didn’t stop him. There was another kiss, then another, then Alastor’s tongue against Angel’s skin, and the boy whispered, “God…”

The Radio Demon’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure Angel would hear it, but it didn’t stop him lining the boy’s shoulders with slow, open-mouthed kisses. Angel’s voice—whether it was whimpering over another brush of Alastor’s tongue or groaning deeply as the demon’s hands worked harder against his skin—was absolute music to Alastor’s ears; he would do anything to hear more, anything his love asked.

Trying to pace himself so Angel had every chance to stop him, he slid his hands slowly around the boy’s waist, then up his ribs to his chest. Angel took in a shaky breath and let his hands rest lightly on Alastor’s thighs. “Is this all right?” the demon asked, knowing this might be a sensitive subject regarding Angel’s gender.

“What? Y-yeah,” the boy mumbled with a distracted nod, tilting his head back onto Alastor’s shoulder to lean heavily against him. “Just don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

“Mm, I really like hearin’ that,” he laughed airily, wetting his lips. “Gimme more, baby. I want it all.”

At any other moment, Alastor was sure those words would have sent him into an involuntary coughing fit, yet right now, they only encouraged him; he was hardly even aware of his illness as he took the time to figure out exactly how Angel liked to be touched, what made his breath catch or his body shiver. It was only when the boy whined, “Al, please” that he realized his slow and thorough treatment could be construed as cruel teasing.

Trying his best to be confident that he wouldn’t mess anything up, he moved his hands back down toward Angel’s hips to unfasten his slacks. One hand slid down the front of them to touch Angel through his last thin layer of clothing, and the boy let out a high-pitched whimper. The heat of him against Alastor’s hand was… He could hardly find words as he realized just how close they had gotten, that he was sucking and biting harder on Angel’s shoulder to leave a vivid mark against his skin. Every time he thought his desire couldn’t be any stronger, his love found a way to prove him wrong.

“D-don’t stop.” A hint of a whine snuck into Angel’s voice as he shifted his hips against Alastor’s fingers for more friction, which the Radio Demon gladly provided, using these moments to explore just as he had everything else Angel had allowed him. In the face of that sweet voice moaning for him and Angel’s hands grasping tighter at his legs, his patience quickly wore thin, and he pushed his hand underneath the boy’s underwear to touch him properly. “Aah! God, yes.”

Without meaning to, Alastor found himself whispering words of praise and adoration in French, his lips still pressed against Angel’s shoulder so every word flowed across his skin. How else could he possibly react? Angel’s sex was so soft, so slick, so _incredibly_ hot, and every moment Alastor spent on feeling out what he liked best, the boy was panting and writhing against him for more.

“You’re amazing, chéri,” he breathed, lifting his head to run his tongue along Angel’s earlobe and capture it between his teeth.

“Mm, you…like it that much, huh?” Angel teased, reaching back to slide his fingers through Alastor’s hair. _Please, mon ange, I like you._ “You don’t hafta hold back, y’know. If ya want somethin’, you can just take it.” Although the encouragement was appreciated, there was no way he would do anything he thought Angel might be uncomfortable with. Even as he slid his fingertips downward to press against Angel’s entrance, he waited until the boy gave a slight nod before actually going inside. When he did, Angel took in a deep breath and leaned back harder against him, hips bucking eagerly.

While they figured out this next step together, he took Alastor’s free hand from where it was still teasing his chest and pulled it up to rest on his throat instead. His smaller hand curled lightly around Alastor’s, prompting the demon to tighten his grip until Angel whined, “Fuck.” As much as he wanted to be sure he wasn’t going too far, there was something inexplicably exciting about hearing Angel’s voice pitch higher and feeling each breath drag against his palm.

When Angel managed to turn over his shoulder enough to wordlessly ask for a kiss, Alastor stopped everything else to give it his full attention, exploring every inch of his love’s sweet mouth with as much passion as the first time. “Al?” The boy struggled to speak past the distraction of Alastor’s fingers moving inside him (though he encouraged the motion with his own rolling hips). “Can we…go to bed?”

“Of course, cher.” Another quick kiss, and he gently pulled his fingers out to sweep the boy up in his arms and to his bed. Though he was a bit shaky as he did so, Angel managed to wriggle out of his remaining clothing, leaving himself completely bare and stretching out against his dark sheets. Alastor’s heart very nearly stopped at the vulnerable and painfully attractive sight before him. After stripping off his vest and indulging in one more delicious kiss, he dropped his head to work his lips across Angel’s throat, along his collarbone, down to his chest, exploring and worshiping every inch of smooth skin he could reach.

“I’m, uh…plenty excited already, honey,” Angel mumbled, stroking his thumb across Alastor’s cheek to get his attention. “We can just. Y’know. Get to it if ya want.”

“Do you _want_ me to stop? Do you not like this?” the demon asked, unbuttoning his collar.

“No, no, I do!” he argued quickly. “I just figured _you_ might be gettin’ impatient.”

“Don’t worry about that, mon chéri. What I’m doing right now is exactly what I want to be doing.” To illustrate, Alastor leaned down and ran his tongue slowly along the curve of Angel’s chest until he shivered and squirmed. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Let me take my time enjoying it.”

A bashful smile graced Angel’s lips as he looked away in a vain attempt to hide his blushing. “Yeah, okay. I mean, if it’s that important to you.”

“It absolutely is.” Satisfied that he was doing all right despite his inexperience, he continued working his way lower, kissing down Angel’s ribs and the dip of his waist, finally settling between his legs to lick gently along the shape of his hipbones. He made sure to go particularly slow about this part, running his tongue lightly down the curve where Angel’s thigh met his hip, nibbling along the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh while he tensed and sighed in anticipation.

When Alastor’s tongue finally slid between his legs, the boy let out a clipped squeak of shock. “Is this all right?”

“Yeah,” Angel said with a firm nod. “Don’t stop.” Alastor was quickly discovering that he enjoyed that particular command and didn’t hesitate to comply. After those few minutes of exploring with his fingers earlier, he had an idea of where and how Angel would like his tongue, and from the sound of his love’s voice—as he’d gotten much more vocal all of a sudden—he was doing just fine. “God! That’s…mm, so good, baby. Fffuck yes…”

The action soon became more natural, allowing Alastor to relax and not focus on it too much. Meaning he could instead focus on Angel’s taste coating his tongue and the warmth of his svelte body. Both the boy’s hands had threaded through his hair to keep him close, and he found himself moaning against Angel’s skin with every breath. Somehow, he hadn’t realized exactly how much he would enjoy the physical act of pleasing his love, but he couldn’t deny that Angel’s pleasure brought him a certain gratification as well. He lost track of exactly how long he was at it before Angel addressed him directly again.

“Al?” he panted. “If you’re gonna fuck me, you…you better hurry up and… L-listen, I’m gonna cum if ya keep that up.”

A hot shiver rushed through Alastor’s core. “That’s exactly what I want, cher.”

“Huh? But don’t you…don’t you want…” The boy dropped his head back against the bed with a frustrated groan, obviously struggling to string words together at this point. Still, his argument didn’t last long, as his moans quickly climbed in pitch and volume. “God, yes, honey, just like that!”

Alastor paused just long enough to suggest, “My name, Angel.”

Clearly in no state to argue, he easily obeyed: “Al—Alastor! Don’t stop. Please. I’m so close, I—” He let out what was nearly a scream as he came, his spine arching and hips bucking reflexively. He called out Alastor’s name more than once while he rode out his orgasm, treating the Radio Demon to all the longing and affection his sweet voice could hold. Even as he started to relax, however, Alastor couldn’t bring himself to stop; he kept his tongue moving, fast and smooth, against all the right spots until he coaxed a second orgasm out of his exhausted charge. Angel’s cries were even higher, breathless and strained as he shuddered and squirmed against the bed.

Alastor only now realized what a mess this little session had made of his face, so he quickly wiped his mouth and crawled closer for a kiss much gentler than the ones previous. Despite his distraction, Angel managed to grasp tightly at his shirt with both hands. Even when he had to tear his lips away for a deep breath, he still refused to let go.

“Are you all right, chéri?” Alastor asked, beginning to genuinely worry; Angel’s body was visibly shaking all over, his breathing labored and irregular, and his eyes were still clouded even as he tried to blink them clear. He nodded absently, but it wasn’t a terribly convincing answer. Lying down at his side, Alastor grabbed the mussed blankets to cover the two of them, then wrapped his arms firmly around Angel to hold him close. The boy didn’t begin to argue, burying his face against Alastor’s chest.

Very slowly but surely, he relaxed little by little. His trembling eventually stopped, and his breathing stabilized. In fact, Alastor almost suspected he’d fallen asleep until he pulled away slightly to look up. “Sorry,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “I get…kinda worked up sometimes.”

“I thought that was the idea,” Alastor teased, relieved to see he was doing better.

“Ha ha. Guess you’ve earned a couple wise cracks after _that_. I mean, seriously, that was—I don’t even know how to say it, you were so good.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”

“But…” His smile slipping a bit, Angel looked up with something like concern on his face instead. “I dunno why you didn’t do it for real. I’m a little tired now, but I can still do somethin’ for you if you want.” One of his hands slid down Alastor’s chest and stomach toward his hips, but the demon caught it before it could go any further.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, lifting the boy’s fingers to his lips to kiss them. “I’m perfectly happy right where I am.” In spite of the period of freedom he’d just had, his chest tightened again with those words, but he managed to smile through it. It was a fact that he didn’t need (or especially want) any sort of sexual attention now that he knew Angel was satisfied. It was also true, however, that he was _not_ perfectly happy as long as his feelings were kept in the dark. _Later. Now isn’t the time._

“I don’t get it,” Angel said, still frowning as he pulled his hand back. “I don’t get you. After all that time you spent touchin’ me, all that talk about how you’ve been ‘thinkin’ about this’—you really weren’t into it at all?”

“Angel, what about my attitude over the past hour could have given you that impression?” Of course, Alastor had known that this conversation was coming sooner or later.

“Just the fact that you haven’t made a single move on me for yourself.” The boy drew away from him, crossing his arms, starting to shift from confusion to irritation. “I never met a single fuckin’ guy in my life that wasn’t way more interested in gettin’ his rocks off than whatever I was into.”

“I don’t understand why my concern for your comfort is a negative thing,” Alastor sighed, sitting up to rake his hair back away from his eyes.

“It ain’t that,” Angel snapped, sitting up as well but keeping the sheet close against him so he was covered. “Sure, maybe you’re the one fuckin’ guy on the planet that gives a shit if his ‘partner’ likes it too. But that still doesn’t explain why ya wouldn’t actually fuck me. I’ve given ya plenty of chances. So I figure you’re just…not interested.”

“I promise you that isn’t the case.” Arguing turned out to be much more difficult while simultaneously fighting back a cough, and this sudden rift between them was only stoking his illness further.

“And if you’re not, then why bother pretending?” Angel continued as if he hadn’t spoken, now too wrapped up in his fears to see reason. “Did you just—” He stopped, wide-eyed, stricken with horror. “Did you do it because of the contract? Because I _told_ you to?”

“No!”

“God, I’m so fuckin’ stupid.” The boy curled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his hands. “I shoulda known after how you acted last night. I dunno why I just assumed you’d be into me like that.”

“Angel, please—”

“Look, ya don’t hafta fake it for my sake. If you don’t want me—”

Unable to force out another word, frustrated with Angel’s refusal to hear him, unsure of what else to do, Alastor caught the boy in his arms and dragged him close for a firm kiss. Not just firm but insistent. Ravenous. It went on long enough that his symptoms abated, and Angel didn’t fight it for a moment, melting against him and kissing him back with as much fervent desire as he could muster. When they separated, he needed a moment to catch his breath, and Alastor took advantage of the silence to make his point.

“Please don’t ask me again whether I want you.” He pushed both hands into Angel’s hair, tilting his head upward so their eyes met. “I have, I do, and I don’t foresee myself stopping. I’ll admit my feelings about sex are…probably not the same as yours. Probably not the same as most men’s. But that doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you or that I don’t take any pleasure in seeing you enjoy me. I am, and I do. Even if not in quite the way you’re used to.”

Angel’s cheeks had started to flush again, and his eyes wandered away thoughtfully. “Ya just…don’t like doin’ it?”

“It’s more that I don’t have any particular _need_ for it. But I do like knowing I’m satisfying you. And I certainly liked hearing you call my name that way.” His smile turned a little more mischievous, and Angel managed a small one of his own, swatting Alastor’s chest lightly. “That’s my way of wanting you, cher.”

Angel nodded slowly. “You’re really not like the guys I been with before,” he mused, taking Alastor’s hands from his hair to hold them in his own. “At all. It’s gonna take some gettin’ used to, but I think it might be a good thing.”

“You think so?”

“Well, there’s a reason they’re all exes, y’know?” Angel explained dryly. “Maybe this’ll turn out different.”

As he leaned forward for another gentle kiss, Alastor struggled to calm the sudden rush of hope that filled his chest to the point that there was no room for roses. Maybe things were a bit rocky there for a moment, but this conclusion they’d come to was more promising than he’d even dared imagine. It would be his mission, he decided, to make up for whatever pain or mistreatment Angel had—apparently—suffered at the hands of the other men in his life. It _would_ be different with him. Better.

“So, are you gonna pretend to sleep with me again?” Angel teased, unknotting Alastor’s tie to slip it off and unbuttoning his collar but not trying to undress him any further.

“It would be my pleasure.” But to his surprise, Alastor found himself so comfortable, both physically and mentally, that he instead wound up sleeping through the night for the first time in years, with Angel all the while curled up at his side.


	10. Like Brother, Like Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venture's demanding business practices start to wear on Angel, until an unexpected distraction arrives to divide her attention. But even if that problem is improving, a mafia boss still has plenty of others to worry about--including a mysterious illness in his sottocapo. _This can't happen again..._

Though he and Alastor had resolved much the tension between themselves, Angel still had plenty of pressure coming from work. It didn’t seem quite right to say that Venture was the one working _him_ to death, but it also didn’t seem completely wrong. Although they’d moved forward on their deal with the Cortezes, she refused to rest for a moment. There were always more venues to discuss, more matters that needed Angel’s attention, enough that he routinely started to take two-hour lunches away from the hotel purely for the purpose of escaping the office for a bit.

“I swear to God if she doesn’t let up soon I’m gonna go outta my fuckin’ mind,” he grumbled on one such outing, leaning heavily against the table he and Alastor were sharing at a rooftop café a few streets over. It had been about a week since his visit with Molly, and his workload hadn’t lightened a bit. “I dunno what her deal is! We were doin’ great for a while, then—I mean, was it when we ran into Enrico? Did that freak her out or somethin’? Is she pissed at _me_? I got no clue!”

“Have you tried talking to her about it directly, cher?”

“Tch, as if we have time to talk about anything other than ‘the business,’” Angel scoffed, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms impetuously. “She doesn’t do _personal_ conversations anymore. I mean, we’re makin’ more money, sure, but I dunno if it’s worth bein’ so tense all the damn time.” Alastor couldn’t help but agree; he didn’t much enjoy seeing Angel distraught, especially knowing it was at least partially his own fault. It sounded like he would have to have another chat with Venture to let her know that maybe her ‘full repertoire of skills’ wasn’t required in this instance, that she could afford to sacrifice some productivity for the sake of being personable.

With a sigh, Angel checked his watch and conceded, “It’s been a couple hours. She’s probably startin’ to get antsy without me there to keep everything movin’ as fast as possible. Guess we should head back.”

As they took the elevator back downstairs, Alastor noticed the boss chewing his lower lip again, as he’d been doing more and more frequently lately. So he took it upon himself to help, bending down for a quick kiss to occupy his lips in a better way and bring a smile to them afterward.

“Careful,” Angel muttered, snapping at his lip as he drew away. “Or I might hafta take out summa this frustration on you right here and now.”

“If you think that would help. You might have trouble finding a blank spot, though,” the Radio Demon pointed out, pulling his collar aside to display the multiple hickeys and bite marks Angel had left on him over the past few days. They had been sleeping together—in every sense—each night, and although Angel didn’t push for anything more than Alastor offered, he still enjoyed pinning the demon down now and again to leave more marks wherever his clothing would hide them. Not that Alastor complained.

“Oh, I bet I could think of a place or two,” the boss said with a mischievous grin. But before he could make good on his threats, the elevator reached the ground floor, and his mood quickly declined again as they started back toward the hotel.

“Ahem. You never told me how your conversation with Molly went last night,” Alastor prompted, trying to turn his attention toward something positive.

“Honestly? I don’t know. She was actin’ real distracted and jumpy while we were on the phone, like she thought Enrico mighta tapped the line or somethin’. And I guess I wouldn’t put it past him. I dunno, she wants to help, but she’s in a weird position right now. Why can’t anything just be easy?” the boy sighed. Trying to support him but unsure of how to phrase it, Alastor took his hand as they walked, and Angel tried (without luck) to hide his smile. “Yeah, there’s that, at least.”

But once they got back to the office, it was back to work for poor Angel, while Venture seemed utterly oblivious to his discontent.

As the week wore on, it occurred to Alastor that a large part of his agreement with Angel was to be sure that he was happier than before. While his position as a boss might put him in objectively better circumstances, if he wasn’t happy day to day, then there was a kink in the works, and it was Alastor’s duty to resolve it.

But before he could do so, another solution arrived in a very unexpected form.

After a few days of silence, Molly showed up at the door of the third floor office with two suitcases (and a well-dressed, fit young man to carry them) in tow. Clearly, she’d taken Angel’s offer of joining the Giardinos to heart. Though surprised, Angel was clearly delighted with the development.

“Shit, Molls, you couldn’t’ve called to warn me first?” he laughed, and Alastor was relieved to see him grinning so genuinely. “I woulda had a room ready for ya.”

“I’m sorry!” she answered, visibly distressed as she thanked her escort and sent him away. “As soon as I mentioned wanting to visit you again, Papa started throwin’ this big fit, and I was scared he wouldn’t let me go. He’s been gettin’ worse and worse ever since you left, sayin’ all these awful things, makin’ threats, callin’ you a traitor and worse. Criss wouldn’t stand up for you, Mama wouldn’t stand up for you, and I just”—she shook her head vigorously, tossing blond curls about her face—“I couldn’t stand bein’ there anymore and listenin’ to him talk about you like that. I mean, I—”

“Hey.” Angel pulled her into a hug, which she returned, burying her face against his shoulder. “Relax, passerotta. I’m really glad you’re here, y’know that? Everybody else in that house can choke, but I been missin’ you all this time—so this is great! Ya don’t hafta worry about any of Enrico’s bullshit anymore, and I don’t hafta worry about whether he’s treatin’ you right. You’ll see. You’re gonna be glad you came.”

“Yeah.” Molly managed a smile, even if it wasn’t quite as confident as his. “Yeah, I know I will. And I wanna help, if I can! I ain’t cut out to be a soldier, but I bet I’d be pretty good at gettin’ information. If that’s okay.”

“Of course! I told you, I don’t do business the way he does.” Snapping his fingers, Angel glanced back at Venture where she was seated at her desk. “Venn, get a suite ready for our newest Giardino, wouldja?”

“On it,” she replied, immediately picking up the phone at her desk. “Twenty minutes and I’ll have someone here to escort her.”

“Really? Twenty minutes is the best you can do?” Angel teased, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Fifteen.” She must have missed the disappointed frown on the boss’s face as she once again refused to respond to his prodding in the way he would’ve liked. Alastor remained in his usual seat by the wall, watching as Angel seemed to come to a sudden realization and leaned in to whisper in Molly’s ear. She giggled and grinned, nodding before wandering her way across the room to Venture’s desk. _Just what are you two scheming?_

“Hi again,” Molly said, leaning very lightly against the edge of the desk. “You remember me, dontcha? We only met for a minute before, but—”

“But you were so insistent on taking me away from my work; how could I forget?” Venture answered, eyes trained on the ledger in front of her. “Besides, you’re my employer’s sister. Of course I know you. Do you need something?”

Molly made a face and glanced back at Angel, who gave her a ‘try again’ gesture. With a determined huff, the girl went around to the front of the desk and bent forward over it, placing her hands on either side of Venture’s ledger and leaning down to meet her gaze. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted before. I was kinda bein’ a brat, givin’ orders like I owned the place, but I wasn’t tryin’ to cause trouble, honest. You aren’t mad at me, are you?”

When Venture finally looked up, Alastor saw her calm, impassive façade slip for the first time since she’d joined the Giardinos. It was a very particular look that came over her instead, a softer, more thoughtful expression that said seeing Molly so sweet and supplicating affected her in a very particular way.

 _Aha._ So _that_ was what Angel was hoping would take her mind off work.

“Ahem. No,” she answered, laying her pen down and folding her hands on her desk. “I’m not mad. I understand you were only trying to look after Angel—and I suppose someone has to.” She threw the boss a sidelong glance, and he beamed at her teasing.

“Still, I feel just awful about draggin’ you outta the office before. I know how much a boss relies on his consigliere, so whatever you were doin’, it must’ve been important.” Interesting that she said all that while actively trying to distract Venture from her duties. Twirling a lock of pale hair around her finger, she continued, “Can I ask what you’re workin’ on? Now that I’m joining up, I need to know as much as I can about how you do business around here.”

“Fair enough.” Venture beckoned her over to stand at her side and began to explain the details of whatever deals she and Angel had been working on throughout the week, and it was clear that Molly was fully engaged and eager to learn—or else very good at pretending.

Alastor came over to meet Angel at his desk and noted quietly, “That was very clever, cher.”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who can read people,” Angel answered, observing the two of them, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “Molly was actin’ real interested in her that first day she visited. But you know Venn better than I do; what’re the chances she’ll go for this?”

“High to extremely high.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Maybe it’s kinda fucked up, me settin’ them up when Molls doesn’t know exactly what she’s gettin’ into, but—” He was interrupted by a high-pitched peal of laughter from Molly, who rested a hand ever so casually on Venture’s arm. The consigliere looked so openly enchanted that she must not have been aware of it herself. She had always had a powerful weakness for a cute face and a gentle disposition, so really, seeing the way they interacted didn’t surprise Alastor in the slightest.

“Well, if she’s here to stay, I’m sure she’ll find out in due time,” he reasoned, though he wasn’t sure what that would mean for Molly’s regard of him. Would seeing the factual bond between him and Angel assure her that he meant no harm? Or would she see him as a villain, a predator there to take advantage of her beloved brother? He could only hope that Angel’s endorsement would mean something to her.

“You really know what you’re doin’ here!” Molly cooed, and just like the last time they’d seen one another, Alastor found it utterly impossible to tell whether her friendliness was sincere or put-on. “It makes me feel a lot better to know Angelino has a second-in-command he can count on.” Although Alastor’s title of underboss technically made _him_ second-in-command, no one bothered correcting her; they all knew Venture had a much greater role in running the business than he did.

“I try,” she agreed with the first genuine smile Alastor had seen on her in over a week. “And I’m sure you must have high standards for that sort of thing, so I’m glad to know I’m living up to them.”

“Hell with that,” Angel interjected. “Enrico’s advisor is fuckin’ senile, but he still won’t drop him because of some tradition bullshit.”

“Still, I’ve met plenty of others,” Molly argued. “I mean, you know how much better the Amorettis are doin’ since their new consigliere showed up. Havin’ the right person for the job can make a big difference!”

“Sure, I guess.” He shrugged noncommittally, frowning deeper at the mention of the Amorettis. Though the Giardinos hadn’t done any business with a family by that name to his knowledge, Alastor still committed it to memory in case they should come up again.

“Point is, you seem like you’ve got it under control,” the girl went on, batting her eyes at Venture. “And it’s nice seein’ a woman with some power for once. I don’t guess _you_ could show me where my room is? I feel like you’ve gotta know your way around the place pretty well, and I’m not crazy about the idea of bein’ alone with some soldato I don’t know.”

Venture started to respond with a smirk but seemed to catch herself at the last moment and forced the smile off her lips. “I have too much to do here,” she said reluctantly, turning her eyes back down toward her desk. “I can call up one of our female soldiers instead, if you prefer; I wouldn’t want you feeling unsafe. But I can’t leave the office myself.”

Alastor saw the three disappointed frowns on the room’s other occupants and took them as his cue to step in and bring about some smiles. Pushing to his feet, he strolled over to Venture’s desk and asked, “My friend, could I have a word?”

“Of course. Any particular one you’d like?” The fact that her sense of humor seemed to be returning was promising in itself. All she needed was a bit more encouragement to move past her recent insistence on prioritizing success over amiability. He beckoned her to a far corner of the room while the twins started to chat between themselves.

“You’ve been working yourself into a second grave recently trying to make this family as efficient as physically possible,” he told her in lowered tones. “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave this office in days. Where’s the harm in stepping away from your desk just long enough to indulge Molly’s request?”

“I would’ve thought you _wanted_ me giving my best effort. Do you want to see Angel’s endeavors succeed or don’t you?”

“Of course I do, and I admire your dedication—however, I think you’ve been so intent on overseeing operations that you haven’t noticed how your attitude is affecting Angel himself,” Alastor explained, gesturing over to the boss. “Not only has he been miserable over the amount of pressure you’ve piled on him for the sake of productivity, but he’s concerned about you as well.”

“About me?” Venture frowned and glanced at Angel, who quickly tried to pretend he wasn’t watching them.

“You have to understand, he doesn’t know you as well as I do. When you become so focused on being a business partner that you can’t be bothered to be a friend, he doesn’t see it as a function of your nature; he just sees a decline in your mood and assumes it’s his fault.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a slow sigh. “Of course he does. He’s upset with me, then?”

“No, not in so many words. But I think he’d like things to go back to the way they were before you kicked them into high gear, so to speak. Point being: lighten up.”

When the office doors opened across the room to reveal a demon that Alastor recognized as one of their soldiers (who could admittedly be intimidating to a young woman like Molly), Venture started across the room immediately to meet him. “Never mind, Lorenz,” she said, shooing him out the door again. “I’m taking care of it.” Although he looked confused by her sudden change of heart, he obeyed nevertheless and left the room. She then easily took up Molly’s suitcases and looked to her expectantly. “Change of plans. I think it’s best if I escort you to your room personally, pet.”

Flushing slightly from that playful endearment, Molly nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Do you think you can hold things down here for that long?” Venture asked, raising her eyebrows at Angel, and he flipped her off.

“Yeah, I’ll try not to let the place fall apart in the ten minutes you’re gone,” he said. “Go ahead and get settled in, Molls. We’ll go get dinner tonight and celebrate you tradin’ up.”

“Great! Um, you mean all of us?” She glanced at Venture, then (for the first time since her arrival) at Alastor, then back to her brother with a hopeful look. It wasn’t the subtlest way of proposing a ‘double date,’ but one had to admire her being so straightforward.

Angel snickered. “Sure, Venn can come too if you want.” Although the girl blushed at being called out, she didn’t argue, instead showing him her tongue as she followed Venture from the office, leaving Angel and Alastor alone. “I’ll betcha fifty bucks Venn doesn’t get back here for an hour.”

“Why would—” Alastor fell silent as he realized what Angel was implying, willing his cheeks not to redden at the thought. The whole concept of casual sex still utterly baffled him, but he was aware that by most standards, that was a hang-up on his part. When he noticed the smile had faded from Angel’s face, he asked, “What’s wrong? Molly’s here to stay. Venture’s snapped out of her work obsession. I thought you’d be happy.”

“No, I am. But there’s still plenty of other shit to worry about, ya know?” The boss ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “Just comes with bein’ the guy in charge, I guess. I’m not gonna be able to relax until I know Enrico’s outta the picture. You heard what Molly said about him makin’ threats and shit, and I know he’s good for ‘em.”

“And if I weren’t here, that might be concerning. But I am, and I’ve already promised to protect you.” In fact, it was taking a non-zero amount of willpower to avoid tracking down and killing Enrico himself just to have done with the threat altogether. But he knew Angel wouldn’t approve of Alastor solving the problem for him rather than allowing him to do it himself.

With a rueful smile, Angel stood up on his toes for a soft kiss. “I know, hon. It’s not me I’m worried about. Believe it or not, this pack of sinners is kinda startin’ to grow on me. Sure as hell feels more like a family than the Dellarosas ever did. There are just so many ways he could fuck it up for us.”

“We’ll deal with him, cher. You’ve already undercut him in a few areas, so your mission to ‘run his business into the ground’ is well underway. And once you’ve weakened his hold on the city, getting rid of him should be simple. I know patience isn’t your strong suit, but it’ll happen soon enough.”

“No such thing as ‘soon enough’ for me,” Angel argued, turning his eyes down toward the contracts and documents spread out on his desk.

“Do you know what I think?” Alastor mused, sliding one hand lightly up the back of Angel’s neck and into his hair. “I think Venture’s attitude must have rubbed off on you lately. I hardly recognize you when you’re so uptight.”

“Oh yeah? You got an idea to loosen me up?” the boy teased back, stealing a sidelong glance at him.

“I might.” Stepping in close behind him, Alastor took both Angel’s hands and planted them on the desktop, pinning them down with his own. The boy’s body tensed up, his smile disappearing altogether in shock.

“A-Al?”

“Don’t sound so nervous, cher. You do trust me, don’t you?” he asked softly, his lips brushing Angel’s ear to make him shiver.

“Uh, yeah, it’s just—I mean, I didn’t think you’d wanna do somethin’ like that right here.”

“Why not? I think this is the perfect place.” At a gesture of his hand, a pair of shadow tendrils snaked over to the desk and around Angel’s wrists to keep him trapped, causing his breath to falter. Taking his sweet time, Alastor unknotted Angel’s tie and pulled the silk from his collar, then used it to blindfold his charge. He then pulled Angel’s hips backward slightly, forcing him to bend further at the waist. “Arch your back for me, will you?”

Angel was so quickly and easily ensnared by the prospect of Alastor’s attention (a gratifying thought) that he didn’t bother to argue, arching his spine hard and groaning as his muscles worked against the binder that tried to compress them. “Very good. Now up on your toes,” Alastor continued, stepping aside to observe, and the boy obeyed. “And lean forward against the desk, as far as you can.”

“What’s the point of all this?” Angel asked, finally starting to get a bit impatient. “You just enjoyin’ checkin’ me out?” Rather than answer the question, Alastor went around to the front of the desk and leaned forward over it, ghosting his fingertips up Angel’s throat and along his chin to lead him closer.

“Well,” he said evenly, “are you still thinking about work?”

“Mm, definitely not,” the boy purred, wetting his lips. Pushing aside the little chill he got from seeing Angel so obviously wanting him, Alastor instead smiled pleasantly and chucked him under the chin.

“See? All you needed was to get your blood flowing for a minute to get out of that rut. Works every time.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the look of blank shock on Angel’s face.

“Hang on, you were just workin’ me up for nothin’?” the boy demanded, starting to flush as he realized he’d been played. “Are you kidding?”

“Oh, don’t get all bent out of shape. You’re the one who assumed I had something else in mind.”

“You tied me up and blindfolded me; what the hell else was I supposed to expect? A magic trick?” Angel grumbled, trying to wriggle out of his bonds.

“Maybe so! I did practically pull this family out of a hat for you,” Alastor responded, pulling Angel’s tie away from his eyes but still not freeing his arms. “I’m sure that’s more impressive than any magician you’ve seen.”

With a wicked grin, the boy answered, “Yeah, you’re more like a clown anyway.”

“You're the one who hired me, so what does that say about you?”

Angel tossed his head back with a laugh. “That I’m runnin’ a fuckin’ circus, I guess.” Tugging at the shadows, he ordered through his snickers, “Get these things offa me so I can wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to ask a favor?” Alastor responded in mock disappointment. “Ask nicely and I might consider it.”

“Hey, I’m still your boss! If you think I won’t fire your ass in a second, you’re dead wrong.”

“Well, you’re at least half-right.” Alastor’s smile started to weaken slightly. Seeing Angel grinning, relaxed, and comfortable again came with some unexpected side effects: a tickle in his throat, a tension in his chest. The recent change in their relationship had made his illness much easier to manage day to day, but there were still certain moments when the magnitude of his feelings overwhelmed him. This was quickly shaping up to be one of them.

He cleared his throat, trying in vain to subdue the urge to cough, but it was no use. In a split-second of panic, he realized he might not make it out of the room before this fit overtook him, and he bolted across the office to the waste bin by Venture’s desk to choke out the roses and romantic thoughts plaguing his lungs. Despite his efforts at keeping himself quiet, it was impossible to hide a full 30 seconds of violent coughing.

“Ha! Whatsamatter, Al? You laugh too hard at your own jokes?” Angel teased, until he realized that Alastor’s affliction was no laughing matter. “Hey. Are you okay? Al? Would you get these fuckin’ things—” He must have still been struggling with the shadows while Alastor was distracted. Unfortunately, his moment of vulnerability must have caused them to weaken; he only just managed to catch his breath again by the time Angel reached his side, and he hastily shoved the trash can behind his back so the boss wouldn’t see the mess of blood and petals inside. “Look at me, honey. What happened?”

“I’m fine, mon ange,” he croaked, only tensing up further as he let slip that pet name that was supposed to only exist in his thoughts. _Stupid. Careless._ “Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure? It sounded bad.” There was a note of poorly-suppressed panic in Angel’s voice, his eyes wide and shining as he looked Alastor over. “Seriously. Are you sick or somethin’?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” the Radio Demon lied, absently wiping the corner of his mouth and hoping there was no trace of blood left visible. “I suppose lungs just don’t work as well as they should once you’re dead.” He tried to cover up the issue with humor, but Angel wasn’t laughing. After a moment more of watching him closely, he let out a sigh and rested his head against Alastor’s shoulder.

“Don’t do that shit,” he muttered. “You scared the hell outta me. You’re not supposed to be able to get sick or hurt or—”

“Angel, I promise you, I’m perfectly fine.” The niggle of guilt that came with the lie was nothing compared to his distress over seeing Angel upset. He wrapped one arm around the boy to hold him closer, discreetly burning away the evidence of his coughing fit and hoping Venture hadn’t discarded any important documents lately. “Please, my health is the last thing you should be worried about.”

“You swear?” the boy asked, hands grasping at Alastor’s waistcoat.

“Cross my heart.” He swore to himself at that moment that from then on, he would do whatever was necessary to keep Angel from being exposed to his illness again. If he had to bite his tongue until it bled, if he had to swallow a thousand roses, if he had to flee and come up with some excuse, then he would. Anything to keep from frightening Angel like that again and proving himself a liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Profuse apologies for the wait, everyone, but I'm getting back into regular updates now! Never fear, this story is still going to get the 80-90k words it deserves.  
> Thanks as always to my patrons: Sammy, Skarleth, Alyssa, squish, Lovecraft_inspired, and Jasmin! Your support is what allows me to keep producing RadioDust content. 💖 If you want more frequent updates about what's going on with me and my work, please feel free to [follow me on Twitter](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme)!


	11. When Push Comes to Shove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As relationships--both personal and professional--continue to develop in the hotel, an opportunity to shift the balance of power in New York arises. But some things really are too good to be true, and the Giardinos might just learn that the hard way. _Well, they chose the wrong family to cross._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the late update, but my polls keep saying they want Sugar is Sweet, so I only just got to work on this one again.   
> Anyway, we're getting into kind of an important arc atm, so stay tuned for all the stressful shit our kids are about to go through~

Within a month of her arrival, one would never have guessed that Molly was new to her active role in the business. She was, as predicted, an apt information-gatherer, and she seemed totally at home around the sort of dealings that typically took place in the office. “Ya think I wasn’t payin’ attention all those years around Papa? You’d be surprised how much the big fellas are willin’ to say around a clueless, pretty little thing like me,” she would say with a giggle, her voice never betraying the bitterness Alastor simply knew she must be hiding.

Whatever was happening between her and Venture, it must have happened quickly; before long, Molly could be found lounging about her desk at all hours of the day, flirting or offering her insights or pouting until she got attention. The party of four went out at least twice a week for lunch or dinner, and the body language between the two said they were every bit as involved as he and Angel were. Fascinating to see a relationship like that develop in a matter of weeks, but Alastor supposed not everyone was as…resilient as he was. He was almost sympathetic seeing his friend so plainly smitten and subject to the whims of a mortal who wasn’t even contracted to her. Of course, he soon recognized the irony in that sentiment and resolved to judge not, as he himself hadn’t been judged.

Most importantly, her presence had an observable effect on the boss’s mood, and anything that made Angel happy was fine by Alastor.

On an afternoon like any other, while Angel was proposing expanding the hotel into a chain and Venture was trying to talk him down from it, there was a knock at the office door. “Yeah, come in,” Angel called. The capo who entered was one Alastor knew only vaguely, but he had been present that night at the Eclipse Lounge when they’d run into Enrico. _Rhys, I think?_

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but you wanted to know when we got word from the Romanos?” he said, looking to Angel, then to Venture, then back again.

“Sure, whaddaya got?” the boss asked, raising his head expectantly.

“One of their soldiers brought this in just now,” Rhys explained, retrieving a sealed envelope from his back pocket and handing it over to Angel. “Didn’t say anything else, just wanted you to have it.”

Angel grinned as he accepted the envelope. “Good man,” he purred, treating the capo to a quick wink. “Keep up the good work, _mio amico_.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, and his glare followed the lower-level demon as he retreated from the room, smiling from the boss’s praise. If asked, he wouldn’t have called himself the jealous type, but he didn’t much care for anyone else getting that particular smile from Angel. Despite only seeking affection from Alastor himself, his love was still given to making eyes at other men once in a while. Although Alastor always looked on with distaste, he was well aware he had no right to intervene until Angel explicitly granted it. The flirting was harmless enough, but it got under his skin nevertheless.

Once Rhys was gone, Angel opened up the envelope and quickly scanned over the letter inside. Based on what he’d observed of the conversations between Angel, Venn, and Molly, Alastor gathered that the Romanos were a family from the Bronx who worked closely with the Dellarosas. Angel had been trying to get in touch with their boss, Marcel, for weeks, sure that stealing their business would be a significant blow against Enrico’s family, but they’d been playing coy—until now, that is.

“Hell yes,” the boss said, grinning wider still. He waved the letter at Venn and went on, “See? I toldja they’d deal sooner or later. Says here they’re willin’ to talk terms tonight. Prob’ly tryin’ to trip us up givin’ short notice like this, but we can be there.”

“Hang on, Angel,” Venture said, leaning against the edge of her desk, arms crossed. Oddly enough, despite having just received good news, she was frowning. “I don’t think you should attend that meeting.”

“Huh? How come? We been waitin’ on these sonsabitches to get back to us all this time, and now you wanna back out?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. We just shouldn’t be too quick to ask ‘how high?’ when they say ‘jump.’ If they want to spring this on us last minute, I think a fair response is to say that our don’s schedule isn’t quite that flexible.”

“Even if it’s not true?” Molly interjected, tilting her head to one side.

“Absolutely. They need to know that if they want Angel’s attention, they need to treat him with the same respect they want to receive, which means valuing his time enough to actually communicate about a meeting rather than simply demanding he show up where and when they like.”

“I mean, I guess,” Angel agreed reluctantly. “But we need this to work; once we got them on our side, that means we got three boroughs covered, which puts us on equal ground with the Dellarosas. I don’t wanna risk Marcel thinkin’ we ain’t takin’ this seriously.”

“Why not send your consigliere, then?” Alastor mused from where he stood by the window, absently scanning the streets. When he realized the others were waiting on him to elaborate, he turned his full attention to them and came over to join Angel at his desk. “That does show you’re taking the talks seriously, doesn’t it? Her time is valuable too—valuable to you, specifically. So you’d be demonstrating that even though you aren’t willing to abandon your own plans, you still don’t mind making a concession.”

Venture raised her eyebrows, impressed. “That was a surprisingly astute suggestion, dear. We might make a capable executive of you yet.”

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you mean that as a compliment.”

“It’s a good idea, hon,” Angel agreed with a nod. “You willin’ to do that, Venn?”

“Of course. We’ve talked it over enough times that I know exactly what you’re after, what you are and aren’t willing to compromise on.” She was nodding steadily as she spoke. “I’ll be happy to negotiate with Marcel on your behalf.”

“Just be careful,” Molly mumbled. “Marcel’s got a poker face like nobody I ever met. There’s no tellin’ what he’s thinkin’.”

“You two have told me everything you know about him,” Venture reminded her, her tone much gentler than the one she used for Alastor or Angel. “I’ll be fine, pet.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Molls,” Angel agreed, waving off her concerns. “Venn’s the best there is. She might just have him workin’ for _us_ by the time she’s done.”

“Now now, let’s not go counting our chickens before they’re hatched,” his consigliere said. As all the others snickered at her phrasing, she frowned and asked, “What? I think it’s safer to err on the side of caution.”

“No, it’s just the way ya said it,” Molly giggled. “I think Al’s rubbin’ off on you, _gioia mia_.” Although Venture’s cheekbones flushed slightly, she didn’t act as if the statement offended her. And if Alastor was fully honest, it was nice in some ways, being a part of this group who all knew each other well and cared for one another. He couldn’t have said so aloud, but he hoped his genuine smile as he subtly laced his fingers through Angel’s was enough to get the idea across.

— — —

That night, sometime around 11, there was a gentle but persistent knock at the front door of Angel’s suite. Alastor heard it right away and gently roused Angel, stroking lightly down his arm. “Mm?” the boy mumbled, squirming deeper under the covers. “C’mon, honey, it can’t be seven already…”

“No, cher, there’s someone at the door,” Alastor answered, though he did feel a bit guilty for disrupting Angel’s rest. “I can get it if you like.”

“Mh. No. Not by yourself.” With much groaning and grumbling, Angel finally forced himself out of bed and grabbed his pajamas shirt to pull it on. Alastor got up to follow along, unsure of who would be calling so late and unwilling to let Angel meet the visitor alone. When the door opened, however, the only person on the other side was a very nervous-looking Molly still dressed in her own pale yellow, heart-spotted nightgown.

“Sorry for wakin’ you up,” she whispered, as if keeping her voice down would lessen the disruption. “I was just wonderin’ if you heard from Venn yet. I know she went to talk with the Romanos, but that was hours ago, and…y’know, she usually comes to bed by now.”

“Venn?” Angel repeated, rubbing his eyes to try to wake himself further. “Nah, but I figured we’d talk in the morning. You’re sayin’ she hasn’t gotten home yet?”

Some part of Alastor enjoyed hearing him say that word—‘home’—but a larger part was busy processing what he was hearing and starting to become concerned for his friend. The Romanos’ meeting had been scheduled for 8 p.m., and as Alastor glanced at the kitchen clock, he saw the time was now 11:22. Surely even negotiations as complex as those had in the organized crime world weren’t expected to go on for this long.

“Yeah. She shoulda been back by now, right?” Molly fidgeted nervously with her fingers, biting her lower lip, clearly in no small amount of distress.

“We could wait for her together?” Alastor suggested, glancing between the twins for their approval. He knew it was a bit of a risk to propose this himself, as Molly still seemed wary of him at times. It was possible she would reject the idea purely because he had been the one to present it.

But instead, she nodded her hasty agreement. “I’d like that. If I’m just sittin’ around wonderin’ about her on my own, I’m gonna go crazy.” So Angel brought her to the sofa in the living room while Alastor made coffee, and they waited a while longer, chatting about whatever came to mind, anything to keep their thoughts off the missing fourth member of the group. It was probably unnecessary to worry for Venture’s safety, Alastor knew, and he wanted to explain the same to Molly—but that would’ve required a much larger explanation than he was prepared to give, so he simply sat by in silent support and hoped Venn would show up soon to attest her own safety.

A little past midnight, there was another knock—or rather, a pounding—at the front door, and the urgent nature of the sound suggested their fears might have some merit. Angel hurried over to answer, stiffening in shock at the sight of a disheveled Venture leaning heavily against the doorframe, her usually-flawless raiment covered in blood. Her dark hair was mussed, her clothing torn in more than one place, her breathing heavy and ragged.

Even her voice was rougher than usual as she stated gravely, “We have a problem.”

“Holy shit!” Angel gasped in horror, stepping back to let her in. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Don’t worry. Most of this isn’t mine,” she answered, casually gesturing to the splashes of red across her person. Still, it was clear that she wasn’t entirely unscathed, evidenced by the pool of dark red on her right shoulder and the sluggish bleeding of a gash across her left eye. “But we lost people tonight. The deal with the Romanos was a trap, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late.” She shook her head solemnly, staring down at the floor. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better than to readily meet on their turf, on their terms. I should’ve—”

“Venn, shut up and come sit down.” Surprisingly enough, that reprimand came from Molly, who had rushed to the door to grab both of Venture’s hands and drag her over to the couch. Venn was visibly relieved to see her there. “You’re hurt. Angelino, d’you have first aid stuff in here?”

“I’ll get it,” Alastor said, already on his feet. As he went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit Angel kept there, he wondered what sort of force Venture could’ve been up against that she couldn’t keep from being injured. She was roughly as capable as Alastor himself in a fight, easily enough able to defend herself. Yet it was clear she’d suffered for this altercation. As he returned to deliver the first aid kit to Molly, Venture was continuing her explanation.

“Enrico was the one responsible; I got that much out of the _ābn ālklb_ who was leading them. Apparently, the Romanos are still loyal to him. They brought us into the warehouse to talk, but Marcel wasn’t there. Once we were alone, they opened fire without warning.” She sat perfectly still as Molly unbuttoned her shirt enough to get at her wounded shoulder. It looked like she’d been shot at least once—or so Alastor assumed as he averted his eyes for the sake of her modesty. Of course, being a demon (and a powerful one, at that), she would heal much more quickly than the average mortal. But because Molly still wasn’t aware of that aspect of the family, Venture suffered herself to be fussed over and allowed a surprisingly-calm Molly to clean and bandage her wound. “It was you they wanted, Angel. They almost refused to negotiate without you present, but I explained who I am, and I suppose they figured killing your consigliere was the next best thing.”

“That sonofabitch,” Angel snarled. “He really would’ve had me killed without battin’ a fuckin’ eye.”

“No, he wouldn’t’ve,” Molly said quietly as she was working on wrapping a bandage tightly over Venture’s gunshot wound.

“Molls, if you’re about to defend him—”

“Look what he did to Venn!” she snapped, glaring up at the boss with dark eyes identical to his own. “No, I ain’t gonna defend him. But I still know him. He doesn’t want you dead. He wants to get you back under control. He wants the Giardinos eliminated and his kids all under his roof so he can say the city’s still his and his family’s still strong. He wouldn’t’ve killed you—but killing Venn would’ve weakened us, and he knows it.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan to die any time soon,” Venture said gently, tucking a lock of hair behind Molly’s ear. It was only at this moment that Alastor noticed the blonde’s fingers trembling as they worked.

“You’d better not,” she answered, keeping her eyes fixed on her task.

“How many’d we lose?” Angel asked, elbows resting heavily against his knees. He was staring unblinking at the coffee table without really seeing it.

“My entire escort. Two capos. Four soldiers. It could’ve been much worse, but it’s still a loss. And…” Venture hesitated, then shook her head. “Well, we can go into the details in the morning. Suffice to say we are _not_ allied with the Romanos. I’ve been trying to figure out some way we can salvage this, but—”

“Fuck that!” Angel snapped, sitting bolt upright and fixing her with a firm glare. “They attacked you, no provocation, no nothin’. If that’s the kinda shit they’re willin’ to pull, I don’t want anything to do with ‘em.”

“Angel, be reasonable.”

“I am. Nobody gets anywhere lettin’ motherfuckers walk all over ‘em and get off scot-free.” The boss was on his feet now, pacing back and forth across the room and gesturing passionately as he spoke. “Ya think Marcel would see somethin’ like this happen and not get payback? That ain’t how we do things. It’s blood for blood. It’s settin’ a precedent. I don’t care who they are: _nobody_ fucks with my family.”

“We aren’t exactly equipped for a war at the moment,” Venture insisted, lowering her voice, keeping calm as if to balance out Angel’s ire. Molly was biting her lip hard as she cleaned and carefully bandaged the wound across the consigliere’s face, but she didn’t speak. “Our alliances are all very new, and I doubt many of them would be willing to support us in a full-scale conflict with another well-established family.”

Despite the sneer twisting his soft features, Angel didn’t argue right away, thinking over the issue as he continued pacing. “Well maybe it doesn’t hafta be all that. The main thing is makin’ sure we send a message. Maybe…” He stopped in his tracks, and his eyes fell on Alastor. He wasn’t used to receiving such a hard look from Angel, and although he knew the boss’s anger wasn’t actually directed at him, he still winced internally from the icy venom that had cooled Angel’s usually-warm gaze. Before Alastor could ask what was on his mind, however, he turned his attention back to Venture. “You leave anyone alive on their side?”

Her lips quirked upward into a dry smirk, and she raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t. It probably would’ve been smarter to have at least one witness for the future, but you know. Heat of the moment and all that.”

“They got what was comin’ to ‘em,” Angel argued with a shrug. “Anyway, it’s late. Like you said, we can talk about it more in the morning. For now, you should go get some rest. You doin’ okay?” The last question was directed at Molly, who nodded, grasping Venture’s shirtsleeve tightly.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she takes it easy.”

Venn smiled at her briefly, but as they started to leave the room, she gave Alastor a searching glance as if she expected him to explain whatever silent conclusion Angel had come to. All he could offer in return was a slight shrug—though he got the feeling the boss would explain in due time.

Sure enough, once the ladies were gone, Angel spoke again, staring straight ahead with a scowl. “Hey, Al? Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course, cher. Anything you want.”

When their eyes met, the boss was wearing that same look of steely determination, his arms crossed tight over his chest as he said plainly, “I need ya to kill Marcel Romano.”


End file.
